


Damn Your Kiss

by Silverfern500



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Video Game 2018), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, BJ for pay, Bisexual Peter Parker, Brief Bob and Patch cameos, Broke Peter Parker, Colorful Swearing, Comic Book Science, Deadpool being Deadpool, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Memes, Mentioned Ellie, No Sexuality Crisis, Peter Parker Has Anxiety, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Wade Wilson, Ridiculous bad guys, Secret Identity, Sex Work, Slow Burn, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tickle Fights, Wade Wilson has feelings, alternate MJ, background plot doesn't matter, but it's Deadpool so, inaccurate healing factors, pop culture references, though not between our two heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-21 15:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18143867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfern500/pseuds/Silverfern500
Summary: Peter Parker. Broke college student, and neighborhood hero. Unfortunately, being Spider-Man isn't his only side job anymore.When Deadpool took up a job to take out Peter Parker, out of boredom from Spider-man being gone, he discovered the boy's struggle for money. Making it his mission to improve the boy's circumstances. While Peter grows fond of Wade, he feels there's still something missing. So what happens when Deadpool looks out for Peter, and Spider-man starts seeing Deadpool in a whole new light?It's the broke college kid sucks **** for money when the guy hired to kill him starts being his sugar daddy fic trope.This fic will range between silly, serious, and smutty.





	1. Burn My Lungs And Curse My Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating bumps up to Explicit at Chapter 4.  
> Until then the fic is rated 'M'. Read at your own caution.
> 
> I've kept up with Deadpool's comics since 2016, a lot of Deadpool here comes from my reading the comics, watching the movies, and from fanon. Currently he's got the Image Inducer when not in the mask, adds a dynamic to that whole secret identities thing.  
> Spider-man is an adult, thank you, and I rather like his depiction in the PS4 game, but you can imagine him as you like. I've only read him in the Spider-man/Deadpool comics, and I have only seen a bit of the Andrew Garfield movies.
> 
> Warning for sexual assault (non-graphic) at the end of this chapter. If you don't want to read it, skip the part where it has the lyrics to "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" and you can read again when Deadpool's boxes show up after the break.

NYC. A city of sprawling thousands, swarming the streets. Baking in the summer heat, or huddling into heavy coats in the hours not graced by the admittedly pale NYC sun. Smelling of its healthy supply of vehicle emissions, wet cement, and that aromatic, permeating, piss.

Walking through NYC, especially at night (and not in Times Square), is like walking through a dystopic skeleton. Except you can get a coffee at Europan, scalding hot with a scone on the side. There are various metro stations to serve as liminal save points around the city. The wealthy walk their priceless purebreeds, the unlucky curl into corners with cardboard. That’s broadway & the broke, for ya.  
There’s the crime of buying an over-priced hot dog, and then there’s the crime of some guy (or gal!) jacking your purse between Franklin and Canal. More importantly, there’s wallstreet. Drowning in unsavory money and papered with suits. 

That’s where the vigilantes come into play. Taking care of the city’s morals. Pitting their cloak&dagger (and guns, lots of guns, and a ka-) methods against the corrupt Suits-With-No-Scruples. Tipping the immeasurably sunken scales a tiny bit back in favor of the common folk. There are mercenaries, killing the good or the bad guys for a little money. Bad men by choice, perhaps. Many killing the good, for enough money (and  _just_  enough evidence to justify it, if they have a conscious).

Of course, it’s not all that, more commonly it’s the undercover fight. Paperwork and blackmail, no unaliving required (though the action parts of a movie are always more fun....). Antiheroes can be found as well, living their own ordinary lives. It’s the over-powered college student serving you coffee, the Not Interested, Thank You woman working PA at the CBS building. Oh, and there are the heroes.  
  
Whether it’s the big names, like Captain America and Ironman, where you know their identities, or it’s Spider-man or Daredevil, where you don’t. With Steve retired, though, nobody’s really sure who’s wearing the Cap mask these days, the rare times he shows up. Tony’s also technically retired, though he keeps going in and out like Miyazaki. Working on various technological and biological advancements at the new Stark Tower near Times Square.

All over the world, crime and life has mellowed out following the last Big Event. NYC is still NYC, however. Daredevil still patrols. Jessica works under the radar. Spider-man....

Well, Spider-man swings throughout the city. “It never gets old,” he’d said. Hanging out with him one night, sitting there on the rooftop in the lower east side. The moon had this way of illuminating the boy, as he talked animatedly. Holding a taco in one hand, and gazing out towards the Williamsburg Bridge. At least, Wade supposed he had been. That mask was still half on, hooked over the boy’s nose to eat at the time.

Yeah, Spider-man still went out to save the city. Reveling in the downturn in big (ridiculous) villains, glad to focus on the steady every-day crimes. Webbing up car jackers, purse snatchers, bank robbers, belligerent drunks, and rapists (Wade’s method for the last would involve more castration and evisceration vis-à-vis katana). The Spider’s strict adherence to the ‘no-killing’ thing was cute. Admirable, really. Wade was trying to adhere to it, damn it. He really was, okay?

Can’t imagine why one would want to live in the big apple, but for the thousands who did, they could stay in relative ease knowing that Spider-man was a web-sling away. Spider-man was as intrinsic to NYC as ice-cream to warm apple pie.

[Oh! Intrinsic, that’s our word of the day!]

[[Nerd]]

Deadpool rolled his eyes, groaning as he suddenly craved apple fritters, and continued his path towards Hellhouse. The only inch of him clean was his face, and that was due to his Image Inducer. Blood and gore covered his suit, adding a dulling quality and color to the red spandex. His mark had been particularly unpleasant a person, and now he had to be wearing the man’s guts.  _Great._  To top it off, he hadn’t seen Spidey in over two weeks. Not a whisper on the wind, not a stray web, there was zip, zop, nada. The Daily Bugle was rehashing old stories, even the Daily Globe had nothing to say. Jameson still spat his anti-Spider-man rhetoric on Just the Facts, claiming the hero had abandoned the city to rot. There was no winning with that man, but Spidey’d made Deadpool swear not to confront, maim, or unalive him. It made the merc even angrier. What good was keeping a promise if the one he made it to  _just fucking disappeared?_

[What if he’s in trouble? We have to save him!]

“Shut up.” Deadpool growled, faintly worried as he stalled in the doorway of the bar. Nobody looked up at his entrance, instead choosing to look anywhere but him or else subtly move away from the door. Weasel did groan behind the bar, but nobody paid attention to him. “Our baby boy can handle himself. I’d know if he were in trouble!”  
  
[[You wouldn’t know shit]]  
  
“We’re heart-mates, I’d feel it. Like those soulmark fics. A pang in my heart, that crazy little thing called love!” He sing-songed, shaking off the very idea. The very nerve that Spider-man would be in trouble and he wouldn’t have already been swept into the arc!

[I’m still worried]

Deadpool dropped onto his stool at the bar, an innocuous smile on his lips as he gazed up at Weasel and batted his lashes. “I’ll have the everclear.” He announced. Weasel was pinching his nose and glaring at the merc-shaped stain in his bar.

[[Besides, Spidey’s taken a break before]]

“How much, shitstick?” Weasel ground out. Not even bothering to ask Wade to pay up on his already ridiculous tab. Weasel looked over the gruesome state of Deadpool’s suit, and noted that the man didn’t look as happy as usual after a successful hit.

Wade held up two fingers. As Weasel turned to grab two shot glasses, however, Wade clarified, “two bottles!” and it took everything in Weasel not to turn around and futilely strangle his friend. He grabbed the bottle of everclear, turning around with one pint glass.

Wade, noticing the glare, let out a good-natured “hrk!” and muttered, “one bottle?” as Weasel poured the pint full.

As the bottle was mercilessly dropped onto the counter, the disgruntled bartender leaned on the bar and searched Wade’s face. Finally he sighed in defeat, picking up a dirty rag and a glass to clean. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” He drawled. 

Wade’s face darkened again. “Slime-sucking, dickwad child molester.” He knocked back the everclear, seething as he threw the empty glass against the far wall. Nobody looked up.

“He won’t be touching any more kids, I take it?” Weasel appraised. And, "stop breaking my shit, man."

“He’s spread across two separate alleys, adorning the walls, frying in special hell, no, man, fuck that Lucifer show’s shit, that fucker had no remorse, but he’s in  _hell_.”

The bar was noticeably quieter for a moment, before the background chatter picked back up. Weasel raised the glass he was cleaning (ineffectually) towards Wade, who was still talking to himself and flexing his hands. “Cheers,” he deadpanned. “Dunson will be glad his son is safe.” And  _he’d_  be glad to take the pay. Deadpool didn’t take his cut for marks like that. With a change of heart, Weasel filled up a new pint with everclear while Wade stared at his hands, curled into claws in front of him.

“Doesn’t change the trauma that kid had to live through,” he growled under his breath. What if it had been Ellie? What if it had been Spider-man? Fuck, Where. Was. Spider-man!? Wade grabbed the glass as Weasel set it down and knocked it back. Starting to feel a bit buzzed as he let the alcohol catch up to his fast metabolism, Wade finally looked around. Blinking as there seemed to be more of a crowd in the Hellhouse than usual.

[What’s with the party! Bring on the karaoke and strippers, this place is crawling!]

[[With everything but spiders]]

“Hey, Weas,” Wade turned, inch by inch, back to the bartender. The man in question was furiously scrubbing a glass now, ignoring Wade as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did. “What’s up with the bar today? What’s everybody doing here?” and then, “...why didn’t anyone invite me?” in a softer mumble.

Weasel kept scrubbing. He was shiftily trying to find an escape. Deadpool was a nightmare on a bad day, merciless and insane. He could blow out your brain while making a mental grocery list and singing “Sunflower”. Or even worse, he could be silent as the grave. Weasel wasn’t apprehensive about his bad side at that moment, however.

Weasel startled, and swung on Wade, pointing an accusatory finger in Wade’s face. “No.” He warned. “You will stay out of it-”

“Hey, Deadpool, are you here for the ARC mark?” Came a familiar voice from Wade’s right, Wade who was still staring cross-eyed at Weasel’s finger as Bob sat on the stool next to him. “I’m not, but, I thought I could tag along with-”

Weasel reached out and pushed at Bob’s face, unseating him and nixing him from the conversation. Wade looked at his friend on the ground, who was quickly squirreling away, and then smiled back at Weasel with a dangerous grin.

[Is Bob going to be mentioned again?]

[[What’s the mark?]]

“So there is a job, a job with lots of interested parties, and you decided not to tell little-old-me?” Wade waggled his eyebrows. “Oh, is it a surprise? You shouldn’t have!”

“I didn’t!” Weasel shouted. Deadpool was scary on a good day, too. Though he’d flirt and rant and dance and sing more, and was prone to crushes. Wade wasn’t a bad person, either. Weasel was sure he had a heart in there somewhere, if it wasn’t stolen from him again (read Deadpool #9, 2019!), but that’s what made Weasel worry.  
He sighed as Wade bounced in his seat. Excited like, well, him in a candy store, or after a good bloodbath. “Listen, cockwaffle, this job’s not for you. Everyone’s here because the money’s better than normal. Way better than normal. I wouldn’t take it otherwise.  _You_  wouldn’t take it.”

Wade was practically vibrating with excitement. “Not hearing the mark, Weas”

Weasel eyed him, and then turned and got down his back-up bottle of everclear to add to the half-empty one, and put them in front of Wade.

 _Nice bribe_ , Wade admitted to himself, guzzling the last of the first bottle.  _But not gonna cut it_. “What’d he do? Embezzlement? Drug ring?”

“Blew up some pretty important equipment and schematics at the Atomic Research Center. Sabotaged their work before that. Wilson Fisk had stake in that project, so he’s pissed. There’s only grainy footage of the attack and the intern behind it, but it’s been attributed to a young brunette-” Weasel trailed off, disgusted by the way Wade listened with his chin in his hands, after downing half of the second bottle. There was a tell-tale haze to his eyes that meant the Merc was getting drunk, for how short a time that would last. Good, Weasel raised an eyebrow. The less Wade remembered, the better.

“Waz ‘ish name?” Wade drawled, going at the last of the everclear. This didn’t sound like his M.O. He was curious though, and it was gonna pay a lot! Cha-ching.

Weasel hesitated, before drawing in a long breath to steady himself. “Peter Parker.” He muttered as Wade’s head thunked onto the counter.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter wasn’t having a bad day. Peter wasn’t even having a “take two, and call me in the morning” kind of day. He was having a  _nightmare_. Life was hell, these days. He hadn’t even had time to patrol and let off steam as Spider-man for weeks because, well, he had  _finals_. 

Despite his past, Peter had learned (after Harry Osborn, after Gwen, after... May), that he had to take time for himself. Peter had to dedicate time to  _Peter_ , even if he didn’t want to. Even if being Peter fucking Parker sucked. Even if he had grueling finals, the heat wasn’t working in his apartment, he was short on rent, his hours were cut at Horizon Labs, he lost his second job.... He still had to try. Try to ace his exams, try to find more work. Which meant studying and job searching, no sleep, and no time for Spider-man.

Peter especially didn’t have time to discover the unethical experiments and terrorism plans at the Atomic Institute. He didn't have time to tinker with their work and squirrel away reports to take to the authorities. And he _really_ didn’t have time to be so  _foolish_  as to wait around for everyone to leave the facility, crawl in, and blow it up. As Peter. Well, he hadn’t meant to explode the place! It just sort of... happened. He'd initiated one of the experimental machines while looking for better evidence. He had some scrapes from shrapnel after fleeing in surprise, too.

That had been half a week ago, though. Peter’s last final was also done a couple days ago, which meant he had a break. No matter how many applications he did, however, no matter how many phone interviews, he still couldn’t get a new second job. Peter didn’t have anyone to ask for help, either. His best friends were lost to him years ago. His aunt May had fallen to cancer just one year ago, near his 21st birthday. He’d used up his inheritance keeping a roof over his head and keeping himself fed, and his income was never enough to catch up to how quickly the savings dwindled.

So, no, now his day was horrendous as a consequence to his desperation for money.

The 22-year-old Peter Parker (aka Spider-man), sat on his ass in the alley behind Nowhere, a red-lit bar near Stuyvesant park. Staring at his deceptively clean right hand while he clenched a 20$ and a 1$ bill in his left. The man that had just left had shorted him by 20$. By half. Black tousled hair, greasy face, wandering fingers, douche-stache guy had shorted him. The guy had handed him the bills in a way that the 1$ looked like another 20. Now Peter couldn’t even afford the drink he usually had to forget the creeps.

Peter Parker couldn’t help it. He folded his arms over his drawn-up knees, leaned his face forward, and cried. It didn’t matter that this - no matter the circumstances - was ultimately  _his choice_. He liked giving head, he got paid, and that’s that. It was just everything in his life crashing down on him, he rationalized. That's what made his day into a nightmare.

And when he dragged himself home, curling into bed while shivering in his clothes, he fitfully wished to  _wake up-_

\----

 

_Parker. Wake up, Parker!_

“Parker!”

Peter woke with a jolt, hearing the pounding on his door as his consciousness returned. He groaned as he heard his landlady’s voice screeching on the other side. “ _Why, Felicia?_ ” he whined, knowing she couldn’t hear. Despite the paper thin walls.

“I’ll be there in a minute, Mrs. Hoffstead!” Peter called as he ran a hand through his unwashed, brown hair, hopping out of bed and brushing a hand down his slept-in clothes. “I’ll be right there!” He called again as she kept yelling.

Peter yanked the door open as his landlady, Mrs. Hoffstead, went in for another knock.

“Ah, Parker. Your rent is late.” The woman, his landlady, stated succinctly. She was in her early 40s, of medium height and build. She continued, “This is the second month, if this becomes a pattern-”

“It won’t!” Peter rushed to placate her, both hands up. “It won’t, see here’s the money.” He reached for a side table by the door and handed her an envelope, watching her nervously as she counted it out. Peter was sure he had just managed to make it this time-

“You’re 20$ short, Parker” Mrs. Hoffstead huffed.

-and then he remembered being shorted the previous night.  _Damn_  it.

At the look of utter self-disgust and despair on Peter’s young and open face, Mrs. Hoffstead remembered her niece. Briefly. It was enough for her features to soften, and she relented. “Give me 30$ extra next month, Parker. We’re good.” And as Peter looked at her in exhausted gratitude, she took the envelope and left, shutting the door in his face.

\----

 

When Deadpool came to, most of the patrons of the Hellhouse had cleared out. He couldn’t have been out that long, though. His mouth tasted like cotton and he gave out an indulgent whine. He remembered....

“Peter!”

Oh yeah. The hit on Peter Parker. Deadpool bounced up, startling Weasel.

Weasel, whose face twisted as he tried to come up with a counteroffer for Deadpool to, y’know, not. “You can’t kill that kid,” he scoffed. And that was the wrong thing to say, he realized. Weasel just about banged his head on the nearest liquor shelf.

“I’m going to unalive ‘im.” Deadpool crooned, as he stalked out of the bar.

Weasel started to protest, thought better of it, and then shouted “No you’re not!” And damn it, Weasel wasn’t a good enough man that he wouldn't place a bet on that.

\----

 

After his landlady had woken him up early, Peter had given up on sleeping in. He'd taken a shower that managed to stay hot for 5 whole minutes before changing and throwing his lab coat and outer coat on. Then it was a rush to the subway station, where he thankfully still had fare on his card, and into work. He had a 5 hour shift, getting out at 2 and stopping by the next potential jobs on his list.

For all of the research institutions and corporations in NYC, Peter had been sure at least one of them would take him on part-time. Though it was very likely that he'd been blacklisted after ARC. Even Stark Industries wasn’t hiring, and Peter chickened out of contacting Tony, who was currently off-grid. When Oscorp turned him down immediately, Peter shoved his hands into the pockets of his only coat. A green, semi-fitted thing that wasn’t warm enough in winter, barely reaching the belt of his day jeans as he grew. Under it he wore his blue-button up over a white t-shirt because he didn’t own anything better. It was a long day by the time Peter headed home.

The corner store near Peter’s apartment was in great need of repair. The lights flickered, one of the windows had plastic taped over where it’d been smashed in a robbery (Peter was at class during that). Multiple shelves and fixtures had hinges off or screws loose. Peter had asked to help out, he lamented as he pushed his way inside. The boy working the counter blew a bubble with his gum, raised his hand in greeting, and went back to the manga he was reading.

There were frozen dinners in the freezer, packaged sandwiches in the fridge. Cheap bottles of wine, single cans of beer. Peter gazed at all of the options longingly. Even the small section of scarves and hats. It was early November and likely going to snow soon. Then Peter huffed, swiping two packages of ramen from the bottom shelf of the last row. He’d have to make more money soon.

Trudging up the stairs to Apt. 23B, Peter almost dropped the ramen in his hands as he’d forgone a bag. Unfortunately, trying to balance himself led him to trip on the stairs, taking a tumble upward and smacking his nose into the top step. He crushed one package of ramen on the step as he had it in his hand when he tried to catch himself. The other package he cradled to his chest with his left hand. Peter got up carefully, prodding at his nose with one free finger. There was a little broken skin, and it would bruise. Luckily he hadn’t been wearing glasses. Hadn’t needed them in forever, but, god his life was just so  _sad_.

“ _Alexa play Despacito._ ” Peter whispered to himself.

By the time Peter had put some expired neosporin on his nose and finished the broken ramen (saving the whole one for another day), it was already 8:30.

Peter’s eyes lingered on the microwave clock, as if he could change it. Normally he would be out there already. As Spider-man. But Peter needed money to live, needed money so that Spider-man could exist. 

Peter just so happened to earn that money at night. It was cash, under the table. Consensual. The only reason Peter hadn’t tried SextTiger instead, a site his female coworker had discreetly mentioned to him, was because he couldn’t share his ID online. Therefore he couldn’t pass the age verification. So he slunk from the kitchen to the bathroom, stopping by the bedroom to grab a new shirt to go with his night jeans. 

Peter's night jeans were ripped, and they hung low on his hips, hugging his assets perfectly. Next he pulled on a tight black long-sleeve shirt, which clung to his body. Looking in the mirror, Peter wasn’t unattractive, but he wasn't anything to write home about either. Disheveled brown hair that never sat straight, plain brown eyes. He’d built some muscle over the years as Spider-man, but Peter was still lean. His arms were strong, but still thin. Even his reflection stared back at him in disinterest.

“Well, another day, as they say...”  _another night to forget._

* * *

 

Deadpool traversed the city streets at a languid pace. He’d heard about his target frequenting a few different LGBT clubs around the east side. There was one informant with a pretty indecent rumor as to why, but that was info Deadpool didn’t care about. He was going to rough up the kid, scare him into turning over the stolen schematics and reports from ARC, and get paid LOTS of money! Easy money. It was time to find his guy!

[Peter! That is so cute]

[[Peter  _Parker_. He definitely got beat up as a kid.]]

“I’d protect him! Ah, well. Yes I am on my way to kill him. When you put it like that....” Deadpool rambled to himself, as his side of the street seemed suddenly devoid of life before him. Everyone had quickly cleared the area, knowing not to approach the man in red unless he was with Spider-man. And even then, those two were known to fight.... 

Not in a long while, though. At least a year, Deadpool noted. Ever since Spidey had been out of it for a while a little over a year ago, lousy with grief over someone he wouldn’t name. Deadpool was there for his friend-heartmate-enemy-crush, and the two had at least become more amicable since then. Deadpool was even decreasing his kill count for the boy! That’s why he was only going to _maim_ this ‘Parker’. Weasel didn’t need to know that, though, that cockroach would only be smug about it.

So Deadpool made his way to The Cock, humming as he went. “ _Ooooh, I wanna dance with somebody...._ ”

\----

 

_I wanna feel the heat with somebody-_

Peter rolled his eyes at the song playing loud and reverberating through the bar. At least it wasn’t a 10th play of Dancing On My Own. He glanced at his glass of rum and coke, and was about to give up when someone placed their hand beside his head, leaning into his space.

“How much, doll?” The man leered. 30s. Not up on his lifting, bro. Some signs of early male pattern baldness, but not altogether unattractive..

Peter realized he was staring at the man’s hair and not answering him. He should answer him. He could say no. He should say no. “Uh,” Peter tried.

The man continued leaning in, and Peter couldn’t help it. He cowed. “How about,” the man spoke, looking Peter over slowly. It was a slimy, unpleasant feeling that swelled in the pit of Peter’s stomach as it sank. “60$ sound good, honey?”

60$ for a blowjob? Peter’s head spun. Yeah he could... he could do that. 60$ was like... so many ramens. He forced a smile on his face, and raised his right hand to the man’s chest. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a good time.” He agreed.

It was always a disgusting feeling, walking past a bouncer with a stranger, knowing the bouncer knows that you’ll be back inside in 20 minutes, alone. Leading the guy to a nearby alley that Peter’d already scouted, he turned to the man and began to get on his knees-

“What’re you doing down there, cunt?” The man asked, his false saccharine tone sending tingles of apprehension through Peter’s spidey sense. 

Peter blinked up at the man. “I’m, uh, giving you a blowjob?” He said as a question. With embarrassment he felt his cheek begin to flush as heat rose to his cheeks.

And damn him, the man laughed. “For 60$! Ha!” The man pulled Peter up roughly and walked him backwards until his back was against the wall. “Nah, sweetie, for 60$ I’m gonna  _fuck_  you.” And he slammed one hand into Peter’s chest to hold him back as the other hand went toward’s Peter’s jeans-

Peter’s brain caught up to his frantic heartbeat and blaring warning senses in time to shove the man off of him, still careful not to use his full strength.

“I’m sorry there’s been a misunderstanding,” Peter tried, but the man just lunged at him, intent clear in his eyes. He managed to get a grasp on Peter's hair and pushed the slim boy into the wall.

"I don't think there has been, cunt." The man threatened. Peter's vision went dotty as he again felt a hand slipping below his boxers-

Peter kicked out on instinct, pointedly, and the man stumbled back again.

"You little-" 

[And... Bang]

There was a gunshot, and Peter watched with wide eyes as the man crumpled to the ground in front of him. Shot clear through the forehead. After a second, Peter reached a shaking hand out as if to check the man’s pulse, but his arm dropped back to his side in defeat. Looking up to scan the rooftops, Peter just caught a blur of red pulling back from his view.

“What the....” Peter muttered, as he went numbly back to the club to borrow a phone and call in an anonymous tip. He barely thought to wipe away the droplets of blood on his face.

\----

 

On top of the roof, Deadpool was laying flat, clutching his chest.

[Do you think he saw us?]

[[Can’t tell, I think he was in shock]]

“What a rush,” Deadpool crowed. He’d been up on the rooftops, surveying, when he’d spotted Peter coming out of the bar. From there it had been easy to tail him. It was easy to tail that  _ass,_ more like. Damn Peter was gorgeous. Peter was also young. 22? That boy was 17, Deadpool swore. And there was no way Peter was supposed to be down there, doing what he was doing. That boy was a thrice-damned _angel,_  so out of place among the other late night heathens, it was absurd. There was no way.

[Do you think he'd take us?]

[[He'd take one look at your real face and run.]]

The boy was  _definitely too fine_  to be with the jerk next to him. That guy was obviously slime incarnate. Peter deserved better clients, at the _very_ least. Then, there was how Peter carried himself. Peter had an adorable uncertainty to him, Deadpool had thought. But when Peter had become _absolutely and visibly uncomfortable_ with the _absolutely not okay_ behavior of that _absolute leech_ , well  
Deadpool had to shoot the guy with the bullet technically meant for Peter. Which he absolutely could not use on Peter before, and especially wouldn't now. Jeez why was there a hit on this child!?

_And where was Spider-man to stop shit like this?_

\----

 

Back at the Hellhouse, Weasel answered one of his burner phones as it buzzed its way across the counter. “What’s your problem.” He grumbled.

“ _Weas._ ” Deadpool answered, sounding distraught. “ _I can’t kill the kid_.”

Weasel barked a laugh in reply, and then the line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There fic blew past its estimated chapter count of 6, to 8. It's my first time writing either of these characters, or two male characters in general.  
> If I manage to get something really wrong, please let me know!
> 
> \- Yeah I looked up areas and streets around NYC, and a lot of LGBT bars. I've only been to NYC once as an adult. I have been to a lot of LGBT bars in LA, Santa Ana, and Seattle.  
> \- Europan and The Cock are real.  
> \- I was once referred to use the site I based SextTiger off of as a way to make money, but blanched at providing my ID for age verification.  
> \- Eating a broken package or ramen is... so unfun.  
> \- Looking up pay rates for X stuff is not what I wanted to spend the morning I wrote this doing.  
> \- Manage your finances better than Peter and I did, folks!
> 
> \- Oh! And you can drag italics out of my cold, dead, hands.


	2. It's Better To Burn Than To Fade Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wade meets Peter, Peter is adorable, and Deadpool is kind of caring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter count went up to 8 while I wasn't looking...  
> Chapter 4's where we start earning our rating.

The night of the assault -  _attempted_  assault - Peter reminded himself, fuck, well that night stuck in his mind. He’d frozen up pretty badly the next time he got a catch and well, he got a little less than was agreed upon. Peter was starving. He knew he would start the second half of his term at school in two weeks, and then he’d have less time to work, and that worried him to no end. 

As a saving grace, Peter had managed to plead for more hours at Horizon in the last three days since the- the uh, incident. It was just enough to get by while he searched for a second job, as long as he kept up ‘working’ on the side. Spider-man would have to wait a bit longer, too. Especially with how shaken he was. What if he had to stop an assault like that? What if  _he wasn’t out there to stop an assault like that?_

* * *

 

Peter’s eyes went wide as his heart-rate sped up. The bathroom suddenly seemed so much smaller, but that was okay, because  _walls_  meant  _safe_. Nobody was going to come through that wall. There was nobody else there in the small space, Peter reminded himself. 

“I’m safe, I have a responsibility to myself as Peter. The world will be okay for another few days. I won’t let what happened, happen again....” He calmed himself down, still hiccoughing in breaths as his lungs expanded again. As he shook off the panic, Peter frowned. 

He didn't have time to waste with stuff like that. Man, get it  _together,_  Peter.

“Catch me outside, I guess.” Peter told the mirror as he grabbed his coat off the door hook and tried on a smirk. It held.

\----

Wade was uncomfortable. It wasn’t the bar, The Boiler Room. He felt at home among the clientele because, well, these places were his too. Attractive men were even flirting with him. It was fun. But as Wade kept checking around the room for a particular brunette, he couldn’t help the discomfort from rendering him uncharacteristically contemplative. Maybe it was that he still needed to figure out a plan to keep Peter safe? Was it that Peter was still kind of his job? Was it what he saw in the alley that night? Was it because he had multiple agendas?

[Maybe it’s the face. It’s usually the face.]

[[Nah we’ve got the Image Inducer on.]]  
  
Wade didn’t have much longer to think about it, because then there he was! Peter Parker Pumpkin Eater! Well, probably not that. Peter had just walked into the club, wearing a half-unbuttoned red plaid shirt (scrounged from a charity box, but looking like 100 bucks). Hands peeked lazily out of where they were tucked in his night jeans’ pockets, sauntering over to the bar. There were already quite a few guys (and two girls, Bi is a thing) sizing the boy up. Shit. Wade had to get to him first. After going to all the trouble of dressing nice and coming out, he wasn’t going to let someone else steal Peter away!

\----

Peter felt good about that night. The Boiler Room was a quieter bar, but that meant he had a better chance of being seen and a better crowd to look through. There was a blond (well, dishwater blond-brown hair, but we’re going with blond because I cannot write “brunette” a hundred times fast, capiche?) man hunched in the corner of the room, wearing a comfortable looking red sweater and black jeans, and Peter’s eyes slid back over to him after he looked away. 

There was something almost familiar about him, but the face didn’t register. Damn, that guy was really attractive though, Peter lamented. Looking away to order something cheap on tap, something he wouldn’t be able to pay for until later in the night.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” came a warm baritone from beside him. Peter jumped, head snapping to look at the blond man in surprise. Maybe he was a potential catch after all.  _Also how did he walk over here so fast?_  The man's lips turned up, and Peter’s gaze was drawn to them. It drew a soft chuckle from the stranger, who gently lifted Peter’s chin with his fingers so that their eyes met. “What’s a place like this doing in a guy like you?”

Peter couldn’t help it, he started laughing. That line was absurd! Damn, he had to compose himself or he might lose this one... but then he looked at the man and the man’s face was screwed up, and then Peter was laughing harder, and Wade joined in.

“I’m,” Peter gathered his breath, “Peter.” He finished, a genuine smile on his face as he looked at...

“Wade.” The man breathed, fully in awe. Of what, Peter didn’t know. It couldn’t have been him.

And then there were those  _eyes_. Wade’s eyes. Such an incandescent blue, as if Peter were perched on the Brooklyn Bridge, staring out across the horizon on a clear, sunny day, with the light blue sky and sun reflecting off the water....

“Do you,” Peter wet his lips unconsciously, his mouth suddenly dry. “Do you want to get out of here?” He asked, searching Wade’s eyes and honestly hoping, which was rare, for a  _yes_.

But Wade shook his head gently. “No, baby boy.” He paused, looking up as if hearing something or remembering something. “Yes of course I want to, but-” Wade turned back towards Peter. “But I’d rather stay here and get to, well get to know you better.”

Peter had been distracted after being called “baby boy”, and that voice. Maybe they’d met before, years ago? Maybe that was it? Yet, Peter had to hide his disappointment as Wade turned him down. He really wished he could be Peter Not-Broke Parker right then, just so he could indulge in a conversation with someone who seemed genuinely nice. He missed having friends, honestly. Peter was, admittedly, lonely.

“I’m sorry, Wade.” Peter said. “But I’m kind of, um, working? I wish I could just chat, but I can’t.”

Peter tried to ignore the pain in his heart as Wade looked downcast, like the rejection really hurt.

[[Of course Peter wouldn’t hang out with us without being paid to do so. Have you seen us?]]

[But the Image Inducer is still working. Right??]

Wade mumbled something to himself, but Peter didn’t catch it. Should he offer his number so they could hang out another time? But no, Peter never had any time.

“-Pay you.” Wade mumbled, but Peter barely caught it.

“What?” Peter asked, confused by the big, strong (in a good way), man drawing in on himself in front of his eyes. Then those eyes were on him again, and jeez, they did not lose their intensity.

“I’ll pay you,” Wade stated. Then he grinned, clapping his left hand on Peter’s right shoulder. “Then we can talk all night, right? How’s 1,000$ for a night?” Wade frantically searched Peter’s eyes, with that mad grin still in place. “No that’s, you’re right, intimidating,” he said off to his side. “500$. For the night.” Peter’s expression quickly transformed from shock to worry as he felt- “No sex.” Wade amended, pointedly. Suddenly serious, as he looked directly into Peter’s eyes. “None. Nix. Kein.” Then he winked. “Unless you want to.”  
  
Oh, Peter wanted to. Just, not anything that was potentially worth 500$. The money he was being offered had to be a scam. “Right,” Peter hedged. “We never leave the bar? You don’t follow me into the bathroom?” And Peter realized, those were his only terms. If the man was legitimately offering to pay to get to know Peter, he was going to do this.

Wade patted Peter’s shoulder once, and then withdrew his hand, only to offer it for Peter to shake. “We’ve got a deal.” He said.

Peter shook Wade’s hand, feeling a small jolt of electricity at the contact that he brushed off as static. His spidey senses weren’t going off around Wade, and maybe Wade might prove to be a potential friend.

* * *

 

“So how did you get that?” Wade had asked as soon as they found a table.

Peter’s mind was kind of failing him, because he realized he’d just gotten lost in Wade’s eyes again. “Whu?” He answered on accident, before clamping his mouth shut.

Wade was watching Peter with amusement, but then his eyes softened. Casually, Wade reached out a finger and tapped Peter’s nose.

“Oh, that. I tripped up the stairs.” Peter admitted. Wade was quiet, and Peter worried for a moment if his clumsiness was a turn-off. Then Wade threw his head back, howling with laughter (because _of course_ Peter would do that).

Okay, so maybe Peter was really looking forward to the rest of the night.

\----

After hours of talking, the bar was in the process of cleaning up for last call. Wade and Peter were huddled over a small, high table, drinking and guffawing over some joke or another. Outside, the city of New York was finally beginning to sleep. 

Unbeknownst to each other, both Deadpool and Spider-man were usual haunters of that 1am hour. Just as they would lean beside each other on a roof, sharing take-out - Spider-man’s puns and Deadpool’s flirtations - so too did they get along unwittingly as Peter and Wade.

“You really haven’t seen the Heathers musical?” Wade gasped, before bringing his last drink (a cosmopolitan) to his lips.

[Shit, I’m not JD, am I?]

[[Of course not, we’re clearly Martha.]]

Peter chuckled. “Yeah, again, I haven’t really had time to catch up with anything from the past few years.”  _also, no reliable internet at the apartment_.

“Hmm,” Wade mused. “You’ll just have to come to my place sometime. I’d usually say, ‘your place or mine’, but I clearly can’t trust you on the media front. Although there are other things to do.. Uh, right. No, what I meant is,”

“Wade,” Peter interjected. And didn’t Wade’s name just sound so right when Peter said it? “I think,” Peter paused. “I think I’d like that.”

Wade’s face brightened considerably. “Yeah?!” He cheered. “It’s a date!”  _Shit, how much was a date,_  Wade wondered. Or, more accurately, how much dough could he get away with dropping on this boy so that Peter never had to come back to this - or any other - bar again?

As if Peter sensed where Wade’s thoughts had gone, he made a waving motion with his hand. Peter’s smile was so... magical, Wade thought drunkenly. “On the house, at your house.” Peter placed the waving hand on the table.

[On the house, bent over the table, in the shower....]

[[Shut it, we’re just here to get the boy off the hit-list.]]

 _And off the streets._  Quick as a shot, Wade had reached out and covered Peter’s hand with his own. He stared down at it like it’d bit him. “Uhh,” he drawled.

Peter felt the slight tingle of electricity from the Inducer again, figuring the fuzzy feeling was just the drink and because it was  _Wade’s_  hand. Wade’s hand was warm. It encompassed his smaller hand, and Wade began to gently move his fingers across Peter’s skin. It was a careful motion, and was quickly warming Peter’s heart. The texture of Wade’s skin felt strangely calloused against his, but that was an after-thought.

They were like that when the club closed, and then they were being kicked out. The pair awkwardly shuffling out into the cold. Peter tried not to shiver as he looked up at Wade, but Wade noticed anyway.

“Brr.” Peter noted dryly, embarrassed. “Think it’ll start snowing soon?”

Wade hummed in agreement.

The older (14 years older!) man had seemed incredibly perceptive throughout the night. Peter never had an empty glass, the conversation rarely hit a lull. When Peter or Wade ventured into uncomfortable topics, Wade quickly came up with a crazy (amended) story to tell. Peter still didn’t know what Wade did for a living. His last name. Important details, but Peter thought he got Wade’s character, and that was much more important. He was pretty drunk though, even with his super metabolism working hard.

For Wade, he was gone on the boy already. Peter was.... sigh. Peter. Nerdy, awkward, charming, Peter. Every once in a while the boy would come out with a snarky reply or a  _pun_  and wrap himself around Wade’s heart even more. 

Peter wasn’t Spider-man, though, Wade reminded himself. That was ultimately why he was doing this, after all. Because he was trying to be more of a hero now. Vaguely he wondered for the umpteenth time,  _I wonder what Spidey’s like under the mask?_ But he noticed how cold Peter was,

[Jeez, that coat is paper-thin, can I hug him?] 

and how the boy looked ready to drop, 

[[Why are we wasting our time with this?]]

and he rushed his sweater over his head to offer it. Peter looked at the red fabric in Wade’s outstretched hand for a moment. Thankfully Peter didn’t make a big thing of it, in the end. Just shrugging and taking the proffered article to pull it on over his coat.

“So, no ‘damn, Jackie, I can’t control the weather?’” Peter joked, smoothing down his front. The chuckle he earned from Wade was strangely gratifying.

“Normally, yes.” The older man admitted.

Peter rolled his eyes, but his tone was fond. “Sure, Jan.” 

Wade’s sweater was warm. It also smelled like Wade, which Peter found strangely comforting. Then Wade was reaching out again, and when Peter looked down.... Oh. Oh, right. There, in Wade’s hand, was 500$ in various bills.

Peter trailed his gaze from Wade’s hand to his face, but Wade was looking away, seemingly just as embarrassed as Peter felt. Right. This was a transaction (it’s not that. It’s that Peter’s in  _his_  sweater). Peter needed the money, so. So he took it as quickly as Wade had held his hand across the table earlier, and then Peter was speeding away.

Leaving Wade standing there, hand still outstretched as Peter disappeared around a corner. And that... well that was significant proof that it had all been for the money. And that, stung? Wade sighed.

[So, tacos?]

It wasn’t until Peter was halfway up the stairs to his apartment that he realized they’d never exchanged numbers.

\----

Wade walked back to his flat. More like, stalked. Murder-strut? In any case, he was pissed. The weird feeling from before Peter appeared had returned with reinforcement. And also, how was it that his irresistible, faux illusion face wasn’t good enough? At least it wasn’t the ground beef his actual face looked like. Hell, he still couldn’t get a cute twink to fawn over him when he looked like ! 

Wade cocked his head. Yeah, that was fair, from the looks of it Peter was just hard-strapped for cash. The boy had muscles, Wade admitted, but he still looked just a little too on the ‘not eating daily’ side. And not to mention how Deadpool  _had_  met Peter under the pretense of murder.  
Plus, his heart belonged to Spider-man! Peter’s ass had been great, obvi, totally tap-able, but  _Spidey_. That man had everything and a bag of chips.

“Ugh,” Wade vocalized. Between Spidey’s ass and the mention of chips, he was salivating.

Swinging by a late-night taco truck, Wade happily carted his food home to casa del Deadpool. 

Deadpool's apartment was neater than one would expect, if one over-looked the various weapons spread out across every surface. There was an unassuming beige couch in the living room behind a glass-top coffee table, a large flat-screen on a shelf organized with Blu-rays and PS4 games. A small island in the kitchen, grey marble top, a bedroom with a therapeutic mattress. And a room which remained locked.

Wade sunk down onto the couch, kicking his shoes off before laying down and tucking into his food. That was usually the best part of the night.

[But I’d rather tuck into some _one_  - I mean something else, am I right?]

[[What’s the full picture on this plan, anyway? Does it involve money, or finally getting Spider-man to love you?]]

Wade ignored his boxes in favor of greasy Mexican food and wallowing. It wasn’t until he’d finished eating and was falling asleep on the couch that he checked his phone and discovered there was no new number for Peter.  _Not that Peter couldn’t be found again_... but still,

“FUCK!!”

* * *

 

Peter’s encounter with Wade had been on Friday night. 

He didn’t go to a bar on Saturday night, and Peter had even indulged in a frozen pasta dinner instead of just having ramen. Of course, just making pasta would be cheaper, but then he couldn’t afford butter, or sauce, or a  _pot to make it in_ \- so he bought a frozen dinner. Eating it while sitting on his one rickety old kitchen chair and mulling over his budget.

The 500$ (minus food) was going towards his rent, obviously. It might afford him just a few nights off from going out to make money, as well. Like that night. Peter was exhausted, but not quite as hungry, and not quite as cold (he was wrapped up in Wade’s sweater, unashamedly). For now, he could rest. He sighed in relief when he finished his meal, walking over and folding into his ratty couch, which he’d found one night on the curb. Picking up and reading a textbook for next semester’s course in Eukaryotic Molecular Biology. 

On Sunday night, Peter shed his home clothes. Grey sweatpants, a college T, and Wade’s sweater all went into the corner of his room in the laundry pile as he pulled on the cold spandex and wrist web shooters of Spider-man. The mask went on and he hissed as the fabric irritated the scrape on his nose. The wound had scabbed, but wasn’t healing quite as fast as normal due to poor nutrition and sleep. Peter figured it’d be gone on Monday and ignored it. Next he shoved his bedroom window open, carefully closing it behind him so the apartment wouldn’t get colder than usual.

Spider-man shot a web out, and then he was flying. Suddenly hit with the feeling of falling again, arcing through the air as the cold wind slammed into him.  _Yeah, it never gets old._  

Some late-night pedestrians noticed him as he passed and yelled out shouts of glee.

As long as he was Spider-man, Peter’s problems could wait. The arachnid-themed hero had been away from the streets for way too long. He heard a siren in the distance, and twisted mid-air to head that direction.

\----

Earlier on Sunday, Deadpool woke up from a gun-induced death in his apartment’s one locked-off, ‘personal’ room. 

Saturday night he had gone back to the Hellhouse, threatening and paying precious money to get the hit on the kid off the market with Weasel. The client agreed, but only if Deadpool could get the missing lab reports back within ten days.  _Persistent fucks._  And it didn’t mean Fisk couldn’t send out another hit. But Deadpool was determined to set himself up as Peter’s guard to dissuade any would-be merc from taking the job.  _Damn him, what was it about that boy?_  It wasn’t like Deadpool hadn’t seen a pretty face before!

[Not one that pretty! That face’d look breath-taking doing many things...]

[[So when are we going to focus on tracking down Spider-man?]]

“ _One way, or another, I’m gonna find ya,_ ” Deadpool sang, inhaling a poptart and kitting out. Shuffling on his boots, he almost missed the crackle of a forgotten walkie-talkie mixed in with his weapons.

“ _Spider-man back, spotted at 3rd and 117th_.” Came the voice of Patch. Gah, how was that guy? Deadpool hadn’t seen him in a while. Oh well, Deadpool was already out the door, mask on. Image Inducer left on the table.

“ _Hey, did you copy? Deadpool?_ ”

\----

High on the roof of a tall building in east harlem sat Spider-man, resting against its roof-access door to catch his breath. That bank robbery had been irritating. Four thugs, two with guns. It should have been easy to web them up and be done with it, but Peter was out of practice. His spidey senses kept him moving rhythmically and he took out three of the men, but the one bad guy left had a gun, managing to clip him on the shoulder in the fight.

Aside from the bank robbery, there had been two purse snatchers, one drunk woman harassing another girl outside a club, and three kids going to his old highschool smoking weed in Central Park. He didn’t call the cops on that one, just ushered the kids out of the park with a strong information dump about the benefits and drawbacks vs stigma of marijuana, as well as the inappropriateness of their location.

“If only Jameson had heard that one,” Peter snickered. “He’d have a conniption.”

“Hey, Spidey-baby! Is that you??”

Spider-man stalled, looking over to where Deadpool had scaled up from the fire escape. It was actually kind of nice to see the red-clad man. It was nicer to see the bag of take-out in his hand as he set it down and rolled onto the roof, but still. Deadpool was a close second.

“Hey, Deadpool.” Spider-man smiled with a small wave.

Deadpool jumped up and charged Spider-man for a hug, but the spider just leapt out of his spot and side-stepped the man.

“Aww,” Deadpool pouted. “It’s been weeks! Don’t I get a hug?” His mask moved as he gave an exaggerated wink.

Spider-man crossed his arms as an answer. “What’s in the bag?” He nodded to the forgotten take-out near the ledge. Hoping his stomach wouldn’t give him away, as Peter hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

Deadpool took the shrug-off in stride. “Chimichangas, what else?”

Spider-man grinned, and Deadpool preened.

\----

Spider-man and Deadpool sat together, food between them. Both masks on their noses as they chewed in companionable silence. Spider-man was careful to hide the scrape on his nose, but Deadpool didn’t have any similar reservations when he rolled his mask up. 

Spider-man had seen the state of Deadpool’s chin before, wondering about the markings but never asking. He first saw it half a year ago. Deadpool had been all over the place that night, more than usual. Both challenging Spider-man to see his scars, while trembling in fear of real rejection or disgust from his idol. Spider-man gave him neither, just silent intrigue. That’s also when their dinner hangouts had begun.

So no, the state of Deadpool’s exposed skin wasn’t why Spider-man kept glancing over to him. Something about Deadpool’s voice was nagging at the back of Spider-man’s brain, as if he’d heard it somewhere else. Like how Wade had seemed familiar. But that was ridiculous, Peter concluded. Deadpool was loud and murderous. And while Deadpool was trying to be better, how could the brash merc be anything like the thoughtful and warm Wade? Even with some similarities?  _Wake up, Peter!_

“So where’ve you been, baby boy?” Deadpool asked with concern. “I was starting to think you’d gone to another universe in a supercollider explosion! Or been kidnapped by Dr. Doom! Or went to Seattle and started a coffee shop au without me!”

“Those are.. oddly specific, Deadpool.” Spider-man laughed. But he felt a little bad for leaving his friend, toeing some loose gravel by his feet. “I was busy with midterm finals. Can’t be the hero all the time, y’know, ‘s unhealthy....”

Deadpool nodded sagely. “True. Even I have to take time to myself sometimes to redecorate the home, interrogate Momo, paint my nails- wait did you say finals? Spidey you’re in college? Wait, I knew that. I knew that, right?”

“Yes?” Spider-man laughed.

“We should totally role-play. You be the teacher and I’ll be the bad student you can’t wait to reprimand. With sex. Or, oh! You be you, and I’ll be Doctor Cocktopus! Take me, Spidey!” Deadpool attempted to throw himself into Spider-man’s lap, but again the guy got up and somersaulted away. 

Deadpool landed, hands outstretched, face down on the roof. “Ouch, Spidey,” He whined, “why you gotta be so rude?”

“Doctor Cocktopus?  _Really?_ ” Spider-man countered, trying to keep his laughter from bubbling over. It didn’t work.

As Deadpool started giggling, Spider-man watched his antics with fondness. He hadn’t noticed as the weight of his life softened with the familiar presence of his friend. Aware that he actually missed this, missed having someone who could keep up with Spider-man. Because he missed being Spider-man, and not having to worry about Peter Parker and his stupid bills-

“Hey, actually, there’s someone else I met who just had finals,” Deadpool said, having brushed himself off. “Peter Parker. Do you know him?” Spider-man froze. “Do you think you could keep an eye on him?”

“Uh,” Spider-man stumbled out. “That’s the kid that used to take my picture for the Bugle? Is he in trouble?”  _Think, Parker, think_ ,  _when had Deadpool seen him as Peter?!_  Could he know? He had to get out of this conversation!

[Did Peter work for the Bugle? Ooh, Peter knows Spider-man??]

[[We didn’t look that far back into the kid’s history]]

“Yeah, a pretty big name wanted him dead for making some facility go ‘BOOM’. I was admittedly on the job-” Spider-man squeaked. It was very manly. “I know, I’m being a better man for you, though I did unalive some creep harassing the kid.. anyway I'm afraid some two-bit thugs might still try for him. So.”

Spider-man was still reeling. So Deadpool had been the one to kill the man at The Cock that night. That tracked.. and apparently people wanted him dead.  _And_  he had Deadpool’s attention on his secret identity. Great.

“I think Peter can take care of himself,” Spider-man hedged, “but I’ll keep an eye on him. Thank you for looking out for him and not doing the job.”

Deadpool gazed at the boy’s stature. Spidey looked and sounded defeated. Did finals really take that much out of him? “Any time.” He replied.

When they both sat back down, there was a heaviness in the air between them. Peter was.. admittedly thinking over the night of the assault again. He shouldn’t feel that bad about it, since the creep hadn’t gotten that far, right? Was it bad if he didn’t feel that angry at Deadpool for killing? He knew what the creep had done was wrong, and if Deadpool hadn’t.... Peter couldn’t have exposed his powers to get away, right? Then....

“Hey, Deadpool,” Spider-man spoke up softly. Deadpool immediately perked up. “Can I ask you something?”

With delight, Deadpool replied, “Of course! Anything for you, baby boy!”

“What if someone... was attempting to sexually assault someone, but they got stopped before they went all the way with it?"

“That’s..” Deadpool started, immediately. That’s not what he expected Spider-man to say. He didn’t know why that was on the web-slinger’s mind, but it would explain how uncharacteristically quiet the boy had been. In a weird way. Deadpool reached a comforting hand out to Spider-man’s shoulder before continuing. “That's still assault, Spidey. If there's still an action taken on their part to assault or take advantage, if the intent is there, that's assault.” Concern flooded the older man’s voice. “Why? Are you okay?” 

Spider-man was quiet.

Deadpool moved his hand to brush the small tear on the boy’s arm. “How did you get this, Spidey?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Of course he’d noticed the cut when he first got onto the roof, but Spider-man wasn’t often receptive to care, and it didn’t look that deep, so Deadpool hadn’t asked. Now, though....

“No, I mean yeah, I’m okay.” Spider-man rushed out, clearly uncomfortable. “I got that stopping a bank robbery,” and he forced out a wobbly laugh before his voice lowered. “I... Thank you, Deadpool.”

And the reality of the night crashed into Peter. Deadpool had been the one to kill his assaulter. Deadpool had seen all of that happen. Deadpool was comforting Spider-man over something that happened to Peter. Deadpool was concerned and wanted to look out for Peter... for  _him_. 

Peter was going to have an anxiety attack.

Without a word, Spider-man was up again, turning on his heel to look at Deadpool one more time, shock and fear hidden by his mask. When Deadpool finally got his act together to go after the boy, sensing that he would run, Spider-man was already out across the street. Swinging into the distance.

[Spidey!! Come back! Let me love you!]

[[What just happened?]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was definitely not expecting the amazing reception this fic has gotten! Thank you everyone! Please hang on as the story continues. Likely this fic will be finished by April.
> 
> \- Anxiety and panic attacks can feel different to different people. For me, this is what it feels like.  
> \- When I'm out dancing I generally pick and choose who I give my real name to and who I use my club name with. That said, Peter shame on you for using your real name. Wade's really dangerous, you know?  
> \- The Image Inducer can't hide touch (the feel of Wade's skin), but I'll continue playing around that.  
> \- Yup, Wade is 36 in this! 14 years older than Peter. This is directly based on the fact that I did that age difference once in Vegas at 22.  
> \- Frozen dinners aren't all that bad. Even some of the 1$ ones are okay. Well, they do in a pinch anyway.  
> \- Anyone notice I've given Peter grey sweatpants and a green jacket so far? That's based on the Spiderverse movie, but it doesn't really mean anything beyond being a tribute.  
> \- There is a bank on 3rd and 117th in NYC and The Boiler Room is also a real place. Pretty much every bar or cafe I mention will be a real place.  
> \- Please believe me when I say Dr. Cocktopus was not my idea and be glad I'm not using any of my friend's worse ideas. Like Bred-pool and arachnads.


	3. It's Better To Leave Than To Be Replaced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to Peter and Wade's regularly scheduled antics, as both go through the next day as usual. Of course, that still includes some Spider-man and Deadpool, and pancakes. Because pancakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about where the story ran away without me.  
> Reminder this is the last chapter before the fic goes Explicit.  
> Also, the chapter count has gone up to 8 and tags have been updated.  
> Peter works, and also "works" in this chapter, but nothing graphic. Saving that for Deadpool.

Peter collapsed, hugging his knees to his chest as he stared at the tile in the shower. His anxiety had tapered off, leaving him empty and sad. Being around Deadpool got to him. The way Deadpool was kind got to him. The way Deadpool looked up to him. What would Deadpool think of plain, broke, nerdy Peter Parker?

At least Peter knew Deadpool wouldn’t care about his side job, as there’s nothing wrong with consenting adults enjoying oral; but distantly, Peter wondered what someone like Wade would think of the local BJ-for-pay being  _Spider-Man?_

So Peter emptied his thoughts, and just sat under the freezing water. Wallowing in his misery. He knew he’d have to go back out Monday night, maybe to Pieces over near Union Square. He could patrol after, maybe?

When Peter hit the mattress, he fell asleep almost immediately. Regretting only leaving himself 4 hours to sleep before work.

\----

The unfeeling light of morning fell through Peter’s bedroom the next morning. The alarm on his phone began blaring “Will I” from Rent. During school terms, the alarm was usually on “One Day More” so Peter still wasn’t quite used to the song switch. Nonetheless, he pried his eyes open. It was Monday.

They were beginning tests at Horizon on Monday. Peter hurried to check his phone, cursed as he was running late,  _again_ , and sprinted to get ready and out the door. Almost as fast as Johnny, who had left for college overseas after their HS graduation.

Being a Biochem major was a dream of Peter’s, and he got to test out his knowledge and theories at Horizon. They were currently working on a new sort of hyper-kinetic energy, they just hadn’t found the right components necessary yet. Peter wondered if the tests would be successful, as he flew through the lab’s doors.

“Good morning, Parker,” His coworker, Meghan Jones, greeted from the hallway outside the testing area. “Nice of you to drop by.”

Peter chuckled, falling in step with her. “Thanks, Meg.” Offhandedly he wondered if he looked okay. At least his nose and the cut on his arm had healed.

“I’ve got your copy of the notes,” The red head admitted conspiratorially. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it in time.”

Meghan was Peter’s work friend, the one who had told him about SextTiger. She also knew about his... alternative choice of work. Offering to be on call for him for whatever, whenever need be. Peter couldn’t afford to strain their relationship, however. And he couldn’t afford to let her into his life fully, lest she become a target of Spider-man’s various enemies.

Still, Meg and Peter would often eat lunch together in the lab cafeteria, making jokes about the work they did and sharing fries. Laughing as Meghan gushed about her girlfriend at Oscorp or Peter talked about photography (which he hadn’t done in years). If Peter didn’t have money for lunch, which he never did, Meg would buy extra and make faces at him until Peter ate.

After the morning tests were done - no groundbreaking success - and after lunch, Peter was put on data entry. Sitting down at a dusty old monitor to write down the lab’s failures in a way which didn’t make them  _sound_  like failures.

So that by the time 3:30 rolled around, Peter was sore from the decade old computer chair. Rolling his wrists, which smarted. While he’d worked, he’d managed to look up and print out some more job applications at least. This time to various cafes and novelty eateries around the lower east side.

“Are you leaving?” Meghan peeked her head into the doorway of the computer room.

“Yeah,” Peter said, the small smile he often got around her coming back. He pushed back from the desk, swiveling the chair to face her.

Meg nodded. “I’m bringing brownies on Thursday to lift everyone’s spirits. Do you have any allergies?”

“Oh, uh,” Peter stammered, pleasantly surprised. “I used to be allergic to nuts, but I’m not anymore.”  _Was that just an unplanned bad joke?_

“No nuts, got it!” Meg’s face disappeared from the doorway, as she stepped back.

Peter shook his head and got up to grab his papers off the printer, when Meg popped back in.

“Hey Pete, you going fishing tonight?” She asked. Peter whipped his head back towards the door, where Meg was wiggling her eyebrows. 

He sighed in good humor. “Gotta catch a lotta fish to get to school, MJ.” He ribbed.

Her laughter trailed back down the hallway to him as she walked away.

* * *

 

Deadpool was having a cheery morning, as evident by the stack of pancakes he was serving up. He’d shaken off the strange encounters with Peter and Spider-man to contemplate at another time, because, yes!  _Now_ he had a job.

[Protect Peter Parker?]

Okay, he had two jobs-

[[Kidnap Spider-man and make sure he’s eating and not being molested after last night’s behavior?]]

 _Three_  jobs, damn it. Deadpool was going to have an actual mental breakdown if he had any more responsibilities presented to him. 

The main thing was that, yes, Peter needed protection. But Spider-man had agreed to look out for him, right? And Deadpool had been offered another big job in Chicago, which would only take him, eh, one day. Two days tops. He’d still have plenty of days to recover the stolen reports after.

Therefore, Deadpool had a job. And that counted as a reason to be cheery. Besides, more money meant he could buy better things for Peter. A better jacket, for starters. Maybe he could also convert his private-room to a spider-room, from one man’s safe room to another’s. And then he could make pancakes for Spider-man! 

...If Spider-man ever actually came over. Deadpool would have to hide all his pictures of Spidey.... And the large card-board cutout of him... and the action figure which says “aw, give me a break!”, taken from a recording of Spider-man vs a sewer monster in Manhattanville (which Peter got no royalties for).

Hmm. Deadpool might have made too many pancakes in his distraction.

\----

Peter felt better than he had in a while as he walked to the station. He’d had a good lunch, he got to see Meg, and he had a head-start on applications for the afternoon. So naturally, that meant it was time for something to go wrong.

People began screaming as an explosion sounded around the corner, police sirens wailing in the distance. Peter took a moment to groan, and then he disappeared from the street. In the alleyway, Peter stripped. Grateful that he’d worn his costume under his clothes, in case there was an emergency.  _Like freezing to death._

The gloves, mask, and web-shooters of Spider-man were tucked haphazardly in Peter’s beat-up laptop bag, which he’d taken to use after work. He looked around for witnesses, and then quickly pulled the items on. Webbing his bag to the wall so that it was hidden from view, tucked behind a large window A/C unit in someone’s window. Hopefully nobody would notice it there. And then, the alley was empty again.

Spider-man swung into action.

Once around the corner, he propelled himself into a thug-looking man in black clothes. Knocking him over with a kick, before the web transitioned him into an upswing. Letting go to stick to the building above the bank being robbed.

“Seriously guys, did you not hear about me stopping the bank robbery  _last night?_ ” Spider-man pointed out to the group of robbers. Atypically, most of them had every-day clothes on, with the addition of Kevlar. And guns. Big guns. Spider-man dodged away from a shot. “Yikes!” He hadn’t even sewn his costume up from the last bullet!

“Okay, guys,” He said, rising to stand on top of the newspaper box he’d landed on. “I can take a hint, but this suit’s a  _collectible_.”

One of the women in front of him laughed, before turning to call to the others. “I thought he was supposed to be funny?”

“So’s your haircut, but I figured that’s none of my business.” Spider-man quipped back. Ack. He jumped behind the box as multiple bullets came flying at him.

Once Spider-man had regained the high ground, he had an okay time of disarming the robbers and webbing them up, but one miscalculation brought him too close to the ground. The lady from before managed to smack the butt of her gun into his side before he could react.

“Okay, you made it personal before, but now it’s _personal_ personal.” Spider-man ground out. 

The fight was finished not long after that.

\----

Spider-man was exhausted. He was clasping his side as he heaved. That had been a nasty blow, but at least good had won in the end. That was worth it, right? Surely he could just take the win and go home to lick his wounds after that. His wounded pride, really. He was also pretty dizzy and wanted to lay down.

* * *

 

A loud gunshot filled the air. Signalling that, no, he could not do just that.

“Oh come  _on_ ,” Spider-man cried. “I just saved this block! Can’t you keep it quiet. For five minutes!?” But nonetheless, he pushed off from the storefront he’d been leaning against, and followed the gunshot.

Spider-man swung up to a nearby rooftop, and then he stared, and wondered if his life could get any worse. Because there, standing on the neighboring rooftop, was Deadpool.

“Hey! Spidey baby! Yoo-hoo! Over here!” Deadpool called, waving both hands above his head at Spider-man.

 _If I just back away slowly, do you think he’ll notice?_  The boy wondered. Why did these things have to happen to him. Why did  _Deadpool_  have to happen to him? Spider-man put a hand to his face and groaned. Then, the flash of sunlight on metal caught his eye, and Spider-man saw what was in Deadpool’s hands.

“Baby boy! I’ve got the fastest way to your heart, right here!” The merc called across. He was holding a gun in one hand, and a grocery bag in the other.

Spider-man blanched. “The- the gun?” He said, sounding strangled.

“N-o-p-e.” Deadpool wagged one finger at him. “Pancakes! Granted they’re a little cold now. By the way, would you get your fine Spidey ass over here? I’m tired of shouting.”

Spider-man, knowing that Deadpool wasn’t going to just go away if he didn’t, complied. Webbing over onto the adjacent roof. His stomach rumbled a bit too, feeling emptier after the fight.  _Traitor_ , Spider-man thought, glaring down at it.

Deadpool’s eyes had narrowed at the way Spider-man favored his side as he came closer, but at the sound of the boy’s stomach, he shook off his suspicion. “Aww, I thought you might be hungry, Spidey.” Deadpool cooed.

“Why do you have pancakes?” Spider-man asked. Everything else was crazy. Pancakes might as well make sense.

Deadpool lit up like he’d been just waiting for that question, which sort of scared Peter. The bigger man seemed to reign it in at the last second though, glancing between his two hands before holstering his gun. Deadpool shoved the bag at Spider-man’s chest.

“I made extra by mistake. Thought it’d be a good going away present?” Deadpool supplied.

“Why? You finally going back to your own planet?” Spider-man jested, awkwardly taking the bag. When he peered inside, he saw two large tupperware containers of pancakes. He couldn’t help it, his mouth watered. Somehow, through his mask, his hunger showed. And he’d actually eaten that day, damn it!

Something akin to sympathy passed over Deadpool’s face, but he shook it off. “I heard Oppy needs a lift, but no.” He said. “I’m going out of town for a bit. Had to see my Spidey one more time!”

[Wait, are we going to miss Taco Tuesday with Spidey..?!]

Spider-man looked up, watching as Deadpool grabbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet like he wanted to say more. “How long will you be gone?” Spider-man asked.

That seemed to snap Deadpool out of whatever was going on in his crowded mind. The merc took a step backward, then another. “Forever!” He declared, picking up pace. “You’ll never see me again! Tood-a-loo! Ciao bello!”

Spider-man’s eyebrow raised as he scratched his head. Deadpool was done being serious, it seemed.

As Deadpool reached the roof’s edge and dropped down, he called, “Keep an eye on Petey for me!” and was gone.

 _Is that what’s it’s like when I leave suddenly_? Peter’s stomach cramped uncomfortably. Ah, well. At least he had pancakes.

* * *

 

It was almost a waste to go out on a Monday night. The odds of finding a catch were low, but Peter was restless. He wouldn’t hear back from the places he’d applied to anytime soon, Deadpool was out of town, and the bruise on his side had left his adrenaline running. So he grabbed his night jeans and his Argon pun shirt. And if he threw Wade’s sweater over it, well, he could justify that maybe he’d run into Wade and be able to return it.

Peter walked out into the cold and held his hands close against his sides to protect them. He couldn’t waste his transit card on bar nights, and he couldn’t get away with webbing his way there either. His apartment was located along east 2nd street, some blocks north of the Williamsburg bridge and inland.

Peter didn’t really have change to spare after putting away Wade’s money and allocating some for food and transit fare, but he had his heart on going to Pieces. Pieces was far enough away in the bitter chill that a bus was necessity. So, standing at the bus stop, Peter counted out enough for the over-priced ride. Each dollar pained him.

The ride went about as smooth as expected. It reeked, it was a bit bumpy, and by the time Peter reached his stop, his adrenaline had dropped off. Walking to the bar with Wade’s over-sized sweater as a simulacrum of protection was slightly better than walking alone in skin-tight club-wear. That was at least nice.

Pieces was warm and inviting. Peter let himself relax as he walked up to the bar, waving back as the bartender noticed him and raised his hand. This was Peter’s favorite bar, and Joshua his favorite bartender. As Peter leaned back, he briefly caught what Josh was saying to an admittedly attractive young man.

“-interested in French lessons?” Joshua had his signature grin on, all eye-teeth. The man sitting down had swept-back brown hair down to his shoulders, wearing a dark-grey henley with the sleeves rolled up.

Peter swallowed and looked away as Josh gestured towards him. It had been too late, the man had already seen him turn. Peter could sense him getting up and approaching. ‘French lessons’ ha. Codes were so weird.

“Hey,” The man said. His voice was smooth and steady. In contrast, Wade's voice was slightly rough, but kind. Deadpool’s was gravelly, or grating, or chirpy, or  _why am I thinking of them?_ Luckily, the man continued before Peter could mentally bury himself.“Name’s Victor, what’s yours?”

“P- Max” Peter did  _not_  stammer. He tried to clear his throat without it being noticeable. “I’m Max.” Peter didn’t normally use his real name, as a matter of security.  _So why had he with -?_ Oh, right, he needed to pay attention toVictor. Peter opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Victor beat him to it.

“Okay...  _Max_. Would it be alright for me to buy you a beer?” He smiled.

Peter thought Victor’s smile was nice, but he still felt all kinds of awkward. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he replied. “Josh knows what I like, thanks.” (it’s lager. It’s always lager).

As Josh walked over, giving Peter a wink, Peter wished he’d stayed home. Why, he didn’t know. Victor was cute, and he’d done nothing to intimidate him. Josh wouldn’t have sent the guy to him if he’d had any signs of aggression.

“So,” Victor turned back to Peter after ordering. “Can you teach me how to say 80 in French?”

Peter’s nose scrunched with the attempt to not laugh, reining it in for a hearty chuckle. “ _quatre-vingts._ French numbers are ridiculous. They don’t have a word for 80, so it’s actually four twenties-” Peter’s words died on his lips.

Victor stared at the boy with utter amusement, as Josh placed both of their drinks down.

“You didn’t actually want to know how to say that, did you.” Peter realized.

“No,” Victor said. Smiling at Peter and leaning his elbow on the bar, cheek on his palm. Peter felt the blood creeping up to fill his cheeks with color. Victor added, “It’s good to know for later.” Right,  _later_. Peter grabbed his beer and took a few hearty pulls. 

“But for now, Josh tells me you’re interested in Biology?”

\----

Later into the night when Peter felt the bathroom linoleum beneath his knees, he thought. If he envisioned blue eyes as he felt the tensile skin gripped in his hand, if Peter was imagining red leather as he licked away the taste of salt left in his mouth, well that was his secret to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hi, sorry. I've just finished writing a couple heavier chapters, so coming back to edit and upload this one is a bit of a shock.  
> I realize this chapter is a little more filler of Peter's daily life than pairing heavy, so chapter 4 will be going up on Saturday. (As I write chapter 7 and try to keep my sanity). 
> 
> \- I'm basing Peter's apartment off the 194 East Second Street based solely on the outside look of the building and its location. There is no way Peter would be able to even scrape by with rent in the area, but it works for the sake of this fic.  
> \- Johnny reference is Johnny Storm  
> \- Google says Peter's favorite food is wheatcakes, and at least one site said those are something like Pancakes. I don't know. That's not why I wrote pancakes in.  
> \- The bartender is loosely based off Joshua Guthrie, aka Icarus  
> \- Victor is loosely based off Victor Mancha. Loosely.  
> \- For as little as I believe my google searches, I'm keeping the "french lessons" as code for oral.  
> \- I love Meg and she's gonna be good for the story. There are so many reboots and versions of MJ out there, and Peter deserves to make a friend.  
> \- A bunch of fish makes a school of fish, gotta have money to pay back student loans, getting clients as bars is finding catches (at least here), so... "catch a lot of fish to get to (a) school". I don't want to explain my jokes. Listen Peter's not always funny. That's at least something I'm not making up.  
> \- Pieces is a real bar in NYC.  
> \- There's various foreshadowing in this.  
> \- Google says Peter has had allergies, but not what kind. I went with the obvious joke.
> 
> This is likely the shortest chapter I've written, so buckle up! I'll see you next time!


	4. I'm Losing To You, Baby, I'm No Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Propositions & Villains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuhh, here we are. Rating bumped to E, skip where Peter goes to Wade's apartment if you don't want to read.  
> Or, alternatively, skip to Chapter 5 for cute Spidey/Pool when it's up.

For as eventful as Monday had been, Peter had been glad for a slow Tuesday. The weather reports called for snow starting Thursday morning, and Peter was grateful to spend as much time under the covers as he could before the snows and broken radiator left him with frostbite.

It was so nice to sleep in for once, since the labs didn’t need him that day either. When Peter’s stomach rumbled, he put off getting up to heat the last of the pancakes in the fridge. (Deadpool had even included  _real_ ,  _imported_  maple syrup!)

They were actually good cold, but maybe he just thought so because he didn’t eat much those days.

In a few hours, when it was a tiny bit warmer, Peter planned to haul himself to the nearest coffee shop to check his emails. He hadn’t received any calls regarding his applications, but Peter still had hope. Until then, Peter shuffled to get comfortable again, blinked at the light coming through his window, and went back to sleep.

\----

Predictably, there were no interview emails in Peter’s inbox once he’d gotten up the motivation to go to Pause. Borrowing the small cafe’s wifi, Peter absentmindedly ate a chocolate scone held in one hand as he went online.  
There were two replies when he checked, one from a bookstore and one from a supermarket, which both expressed interest in Peter but had no availability. He refreshed his inbox a couple times as if something better would appear in the next few minutes, but no.

Getting that out of the way, and licking chocolate from the corner of his mouth, Peter mused over what to do once classes started up again. He’d be back on noon shifts at Horizon to accommodate his 10am Behavioral Neuroscience slot. Plus Eukaryotic Molecular Biology at 8am on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and a late night 9pm Modern Dance Technique class. Meghan had made fun of Peter for that one, but hey. Peter could dance! Spider-man was  _‘flexible’_  ...plus none of the other electives fit his schedule.

His schedule was all over the place as it was. There didn’t seem to be a good way to fit in a second part-time job even if Peter could  _find_  one. He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.

\----

Maybe if Peter’s spidey senses worked for Deadpool, he’d have felt a shiver up his spine as the merc did a comical double take across the street and slipped out of view.

One of the workers came over to Peter and politely asked if he would be ordering anything else. The customer service equivalent of “why are you still here.” Peter sighed. He was wondering if he could budget a small coffee, when he angled his head back down and saw....

“No, thanks. I’m just leaving.” Peter rushed out, much to the young employee’s relief.

Peter had seen Wade walking past the storefront on Wade’s third pass.  _Do I look okay?_  Peter asked himself frantically, shoving his laptop away and gathering his bag. He wished he’d brought Wade’s sweater to return it, but he was also glad he hadn’t.

Wade was just about to turn around and retrace his steps for a fourth time,  _damn it Peter_ when he heard the boy calling out, “Wade! Hey, wait up!”

As Peter caught up to him, Wade hid a smirk. Putting on a face of surprise before he turned around. “Peter?”

“Yeah.” Peter grinned, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. It was  _très_ adorable. Too bad it seemed like Peter was about to black out (from having gotten up too quickly and then running).

Wade smiled back anyway, he couldn’t help it. Peter’s smile was infectious. The way the boy’s eyes shone. “I was hoping to see you! See there’s this problem with my phone....”

Peter straightened up and lightly punched Wade on the arm, a light laugh bubbling out of him. “Let me guess, ‘it doesn’t have your number in it’?”

“Correctamundo,” Wade winked. “And I wanted to ask - if I ever saw you again - if you’d have dinner with me?” He added, hopeful.  _And breakfast, too_ his mind supplied unhelpfully.

As he ran a hand through his hair, Peter decided that, yes, dinner sounded good. Not that he ever had trouble saying no to food. “I’d like that. Have any place in mind?”

Wade beamed. Pulling Peter to him with one arm and walking them down the street. “Have you ever been to Wafels & Dinges?” When Peter shook his head, Wade gave a delighted laugh. “Well you, Petey-baby, are in for a treat! They have the best waffles.”

\----

Talking to Wade was easy. It was the perfect end to Peter’s easy day, and Wade had been right about the waffles.

“So what’ve you been up to?” Wade asked, stuffing a pulled-pork waffle in his mouth. Peter must have given him a ‘look’ because Wade started backtracking.

“I’ve been tricking,” Peter deadpanned. Before relenting on the sputtering man. “No but seriously,” he waved his hand, “work at the lab’s been good, and I’ve gotten time to prepare for my classes thanks to you.” Wade scoffed at the compliment, but he seemed chuffed. “What about you?”

What about Wade? Or more accurately, Deadpool? Deadpool’s job had been.. a little messy. In a demons and clowns kind of way. “I had a short work trip,” Wade summarized. “It was a bigger dumpster fire than Fyrefest, before you ask. I actually just got back in time for you to catch me. Lucky you.”

Peter did feel lucky, as he listened to Wade speak. But it did seem like Wade had an ulterior motive for talking to Peter after all, as the older man cleared his throat to speak.

“Actually, about your extracurricular activities,” Wade began.

_Oh boy, here we go._

“I’d like to make your life a little sweeter, if you know what I mean, sugar.” He finished.

“What?” Peter replied. Was Wade asking him for sex, or not?

Wade fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt, not seeming particularly comfortable. “I wanna be your sugar Daddy.” he said under his breath, staring absently at his watch (Image Inducer).

Peter leaned forward across the table, having only caught a few syllables of that. “What did you say?”

Wade looked up sharply, placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “I want to pay for your time, like the other night, and for your company at dinner tonight, and for hanging out in the future.”

 _What._  “What.” Peter said.

Wade was blushing, but seemed to regain his confidence. “I’m not looking for anything sexual. Unless... no, I’m not, unless  _you_  want to. You set the boundaries, we hang out, I pay you. I just ask that you not.. do what you’ve been doing, for money, when I can pay you, if that’s why you do that....” Wade trailed off.

Peter’s eyebrows had possibly lifted right off his head and flown into space as Wade rambled. “...what’s the catch?” was all he could say.

When Peter didn’t immediately shut the idea down, Wade felt emboldened. “No catch, babe. That’s the offer. Although you could call me Daddy!”

“No” Peter reeled, then, hurrying to clarify before Wade’s face could fall, “I am not calling you that. But the deal, I’ll.. consider it.” Peter offered what he hoped was a comforting smile.

That was enough for Wade, for now. They fell into a companionable silence while Peter finished his waffle (while trying not to inhale it), and he thought about how nice it was to see Wade again, despite the weird conversation. “Hey, you did mention hanging out? I’d be up for that, if you wanted.”

“Do dogs like to hump?” Wade cheered as an answer. “My place, tomorrow afternoon?”

Peter fondly shook his head. “I’d love to, Wade.”

* * *

 

At 2pm the following day, Peter stood unsure outside the apartment complex at the address Wade had texted him. It was beginning to snow,  _because of course the weather reports were off_ , and Peter was freezing. Even with Wade’s sweater (which Wade had insisted he keep, when Peter had texted to ask). 

 _Should I be doing this_? Peter had to wonder. He’d never been to anyone’s apartment. ‘No secondary locations’ was one of his rules next to ‘no kissing’. But he’d already been willing to forgo those the first time he’d met Wade. And it seemed too late to back out, as Peter found himself in front of Wade’s door, and then it was opening, and,

“Hello, Peter.”

Wade was really attractive in a way that was almost unbelievable. The small touches they’d shared were gentle. Wade’s eyes were bright and expressive, his jokes were unexpectedly funny. It made Peter  _want_.

“Wade,” Peter smiled hesitantly, as he stepped into the tidy apartment.

Wade had remembered to shove all smaller weapons into hidey-holes, the larger weapons and everything Spidey tucked into his locked room. Thank goodness.

There was the customary offering of a drink, and Peter accepted a glass of water as they sat on Wade’s couch in the living room. Peter was pretty overwhelmed, and drunk on the feeling of being in Wade’s  _warm, furnished_  apartment.

Peter looked around, making a mental list. Wade had a PS4 with a copy of RDR2 resting on it. Wade’s color palette was warm, like him. Wade’s kitchen looked well-stocked. Nothing screamed ‘serial murderer’ (although everything really, really should’ve). Okay, so Wade was wearing thin black gloves, but lots of people had an issue with germs or sensory input.

“Um,” Peter broke the silence. “Could you show me where the bathroom is?”

Wade jumped up, knocked out of the trance he’d been in since Peter  _came into his apartment,_ and _sat on his couch_. “Of course, just, down the hallway, first door on the right.” He gestured, before fiddling with his hands.

“Thanks,” Peter said, walking off.

\----

When Peter returned, Wade was pacing the living room. Getting close enough to help Peter had been his plan, but he wasn’t ready for Peter to actually  _be there_.

“Wade,” speaking of, Peter walked back in, putting a halt to Wade’s pacing. “I want to ask you for something, and I want to know if I’m misreading what you want.” Peter put a hand up when Wade opened his mouth to speak. “Not what you’re willing to ask for, but what you  _want_. Because I’d like to go down on you.”

Wade’s brain just about fried.

\----

 

Peter looked into Wade’s eyes. Wade seemed nervous, his mouth slightly parted and face open. He really wasn’t going to ask, Peter realized. From the moment Peter had hooked his finger through Wade’s belt loop and shown his desire, said, “...can I?” the suave charm of Wade was gone, and Peter didn’t know the half of it.

 _“Peter, you don’t have to, this isn’t what I-”_ Wade had said, eyes wandering everywhere but Peter’s face. Wade’s lips pursed, and then he’d almost snarled, but it wasn’t directed at Peter as Wade fought a nonverbal war in his head.

When Peter reached up to touch Wade’s cheek, intending to soothe him, the older man was quicker. Snapping out of it to grab Peter’s wrist gently in his gloved hand.  _“Don’t,”_ He’d pleaded. That haunted look had to go, Peter decided. He’d make it go away.  _“Don’t touch my face,”_  Wade had continued.  _“Please.”_

Because that’s all Wade could say. Maybe it was a mistake to invite Peter Parker over. When he’d propositioned the boy, well, this isn’t exactly what he had in mind.

[[Liar, as if you weren’t  _hoping_  for this.]]

But this is what Peter  _did_. This is what Peter  _wanted_. For Peter, those two things were truer in that moment than they had been in years. And for Wade, Peter’s desire was a precious thing.

[Just give him what he wants! Sharing is caring!]

[[He doesn’t want us, dickbrain. He wants the pretty visage with money.]]

[And I want Spidey, but that’s not gonna happen either so shut it!]

 _He wants to give, and I want to receive._ Of the multiple reasons that had led to Peter being there, Wade’s simple desire for touch and companionship was right up there. He reveled in the way Peter’s hand felt through the shirt on his chest as the boy had carefully, yet firmly, backed Wade to the couch. And when Peter nudged him, he dropped down easily.

And Peter, angel that he was, kneeled between Wade’s legs. With the boy’s hands on Wade’s thighs, Peter’s wide brown eyes staring right through him, he couldn’t process a single thought.

“Okay,” Peter agreed. “I won’t touch your face.” He paused, tilting his head in question. “Is it okay..?”

Wade was still for a long moment before giving one, tentative nod. And because it needed to be said, “Anything you want, baby. I’ll let you know if I’m not okay with something.”

They shared a moment of understanding, gazing at one another until Peter nodded his assent.

Then Peter deftly unbuttoned and undid the zipper of Wade’s jeans, barely remembering to  _slow down_. He could take his time. Slipping his hand beneath Wade's jeans, he palmed the warm length through the man's burgundy boxers.

“Peter?” Wade shuddered, as he let out the breath he’d been holding.

Peter smiled as he looked up to Wade’s face, their eyes once again locking as Peter continued to pet and stroke Wade’s quickly hardening cock.

“I’ve got you,” the brunette soothed, reaching to place his free hand on Wade’s hip to steady him.

Wade was quickly becoming uncomfortable with the sudden tightness of the fabric over his crotch. It was apparent as he wiggled his hips to adjust, then gave up. Grabbing the waist band of the unyielding denim and hoisting it down his thighs. Peter’s lip quirked, raising his palm so Wade could re-situate. When the older man settled back down, though, that palm was right back at the base of Wade’s dick.

Wade suppressed another shiver. “Your hand feels so good....” his breath hitched as Peter rubbed the head.

Peter continued to smile up at Wade, taking precious time to trail his fingertips down and up Wade’s fully erect cock as it strained his boxers and twitched at his ministrations. With his thumb, Peter passed the wet spot on the fabric. Then, he lowered his hand, and gripped Wade’s dick fully.

Wade’s dick was impressive, Peter had to give him that, as he looked down. How would it feel inside him?  _Whoah, Peter, slow down._  Just holding Wade in his hand was pleasurable. But he wanted to  _taste_  it.

As for Wade.... Wade was in another zip code. You’ve reached Deadpool’s voicemail, please leave your credit card info at the beep! Return to sender, but  _do_  pass go. Wade couldn’t help it, as pleasurable tension flowed into his veins. The warmth pooling low in his gut at the sight of Peter’s flawless hand on him. At Peter’s lips, begging to be teased, perfect to wrap around his cock.

Peter reached for the edge of Wade’s boxers, and Wade jolted.

“Wait!” Wade panicked. Peter lifted his hands away and rocked back, that deer in the headlights look just so, so... “Wait I uh, need to get a condom.” Wade supplied, reaching out to caress Peter’s cheek. “Don’t want that gorgeous mouth of yours tainted by me.”

 _Ah, damn_. Peter still wanted to taste him. Wade’s preferences were important though. Peter nodded. “Got any flavored ones?”

At that, Wade gave a laugh under his breath. Then he began counting on his fingers. “Yeah. I got bacon,” [[Who let him buy bacon flavored condoms?!?]] “cola, mint, strawberry-”

“Strawberry.” Peter interjected. His nose was scrunched up, incredulous over the first three flavors. “Anything else?”

Wade’s blush returned as he grabbed the back of his neck. Did Wade  _want_  anything else?  _Yeah, Peter on his bed with his hands fisted in the sheets-_  “can you close your eyes? While I put it on?” Wade asked, afraid that Peter would say no. That that would be where Peter drew the line, after having asked to do this. The boy would finally see that Wade was right when he advised against-

“Okay, Wade.” Peter agreed softly. Though it was rare, it wasn’t the first time someone had been self conscious of their dick before. Offhandedly, Peter wondered if Deadpool was.. but that didn’t matter just then. “I promise not to peek” He ribbed in good humor. 

Wade nodded as Peter closed his eyes, wondering not for the first time how this was his life. He reached over to the side table with a little creative maneuvering and a grunt, flicking open the drawer and rummaging around for a red condom. He fumbled with the wrapper as he turned back towards Peter. Peter. Who seemed completely at ease, kneeling on the floor with his eyes closed and his hands in his lap. Wade wanted to hold the boy to his chest, run his fingers through that soft brown hair....

“Can I look?” Peter asked, feeling Wade’s eyes on him. Emboldened to joke like he wouldn’t with others, Peter added, “is my surprise ready?”

Wade’s heart stopped for a second as he unrolled the condom onto his dick, feeling the slight buzz of the Image Inducer as it shifted to accommodate the latex. It looked normal enough, and the slight electricity coaxed his cock back to being as hard as he had been under Peter’s hand.

“You can open your eyes, Peter.” Wade answered softly. Though he still gulped to see that soft, golden gaze.

“Why, you shouldn’t have.” Peter remarked dryly, as he looked down.

As Peter reached to take him again, Wade was thinking the same thing.  _No, I shouldn’t have._

This time, when Peter leaned in closer to Wade, he didn’t stop short. Peter dipped his head, and guided Wade’s cock to his lips, licking out at the tip. Wade nearly jumped, and then his hands were in Peter’s hair. He didn’t pull, he didn’t push, he just held on.

Peter swirled his tongue around the head of Wade’s cock, pulling it into his mouth as he began to stroke his right hand down the shaft. He braced himself on the couch with his left hand, bobbing his head down. His mouth full of artificial strawberry, but the rigidness of Wade’s cock was a welcome reminder of how much Peter enjoyed this.

Not the going to skeevy bars or the creeps or the exchange of money, but the act of giving pleasure through oral.

Peter’s rhythm picked up and when he couldn’t keep up with his hand, he moved it down onto the couch. In a moment, Wade’s fingers were untangled from Peter’s hair and lain covetous over Peter’s hands on either side of his thighs.

Wade moaned and let go of his tightly-wound control. Letting himself get lost in the feel of Peter’s mouth as he felt his orgasm building. “P-Peter,” he grunted, and the brunette didn’t stop. Even with the condom, between the pressure of Peter’s lips, the warmth of his mouth, and the slight tingle of the Inducer, Wade was gonna lose it.

“Mmf,” Peter acknowledged, because Wade had said that last part out loud. Peter hummed as he clamped down, sucking Wade deeper. And Wade unraveled. His cock throbbed and Peter swallowed nothing, Wade crying out above him.

When Wade had stilled, Peter withdrew. 

He got up to get a glass of water without a word, letting the man remove the condom and slip off to the bathroom to clean up.

\----

Cleaned up and back on the couch, Peter and Wade sat down, not speaking. It was a very brief, tense moment, before Wade broke down, holding his arms out and saying, “c’mon, Petey, get your ass over here.” and so Peter did.

It felt so nice to stretch out across Wade’s muscles. Warm and safe. 

Peter liked Wade, he did, he just still wasn’t able to fully be... Peter around the guy. There was that “new person” barrier still up between them, and Peter wasn’t sure how Wade would feel about him if those came down.

Wade was comfortable. Peter was happy to have met the man. There just seemed to be something missing.

“Wade,” Peter spoke up hesitantly. Wade hummed in response, and Peter felt the slight rumble in the man's chest beneath his ear. “Can I give you my answer in a few days? About what you asked me at the restaurant?”

Wade had expected the boy to need time. He’d hoped that Peter would say yes, but if his answer was no, Wade would respect that. He’d still break in and steal back the stolen reports... but he’d respect Peter’s rejection. Even if he’d prefer to dote on him. Even if he couldn't let the kid go.

“Of course, Petey.” Wade muttered, rubbing Peter’s back distractedly.

* * *

 

 

“Why  _don’t_  you just break in, get the files, and forget Peter?” Weasel groused. He’d heard the names “Peter” and “Spidey” one time too many for a Wednesday night (or any night).

“Weasel you don’t understand,” Deadpool complained from where he was spread out  _across the entire counter._ “I  _can’t_  forget about Peter. I don’t know  _why_.”

[Does “omg orgasm” ring a bell??]

[[There’s more to it than that.]]

“Listen, DP. Your precious twerp could be in danger from any one of the upset scientists at ARC and from any mercs they hire,  _even if_  Fisk has kept his word to spare Peter for the paperwork. This isn’t going to end well for either of you.”

Deadpool glared at Weasel, sitting back up and pointing a finger into Weasel’s chest.

“No, you listen.  _Nothing_  is going to happen to Peter. Because I’ve only known Peter a few days, but if anything happened to him I would kill you, half the state of New York, and then myself.”

Weasel just rolled his eyes and poured Wade another drink.

* * *

 

 

Peter had a lot to think about, as Wednesday night blurred into Thursday. After getting home on Wednesday, Peter has spent the night going over the research from ARC, wondering if there was anything that might be useful for Horizon’s project. He’d discovered a few ideas to test out, but didn’t have the energy to tinker. His shift was passing him by in a daze, and Wade’s offer weighed heavy on his mind.   
(As Wade’s money weighed down his pockets)

Also on Peter’s mind, was that there could be people after him, according to Deadpool. For the very same papers he’d been pouring over until midnight, which were safely stashed away. Somehow, Peter or Spider-man needed to take care of this.

\----

It wasn’t until lunch that Peter noticed Meg wasn’t around to eat with him. And she’d even promised to bring brownies! Brownies were very important. And Peter wanted to tell her about Wade’s offer, before he went out of his mind. But when Peter wandered around the facility, peering into various labs for Meg, nobody had seen her. Maybe she’d gotten sick?

Peter was just getting back to the computer room and almost missed the ringing of his phone - which he’d forgotten to put on silent - on the desk. With absolutely no grace, Peter lunged for it, falling over his chair in the process.

“Hello, you’ve reached Peter Parker,” He answered, hoping it was a potential job.

 _“Hello, Parker.”_ a female voice answered, sounding pleased that he’d picked up.  _“I’m with ah, a temp agency, should I say, and I’d like to meet with you...”_ She continued

But in the background, Peter could hear a familiar, frantic voice call out  _“Peter! It’s a-”_

Peter’s eyebrows narrowed. “Gee, you sure don’t sound like a recruiter, lady.” He grit out.

 _“Perhaps not,”_ The lady laughed,  _“But I’d still like to have an interview with you. Shall we say, the Terminal Warehouse, 1pm? Take care, now!”_

The line went dead, and Peter glared at his phone. Why couldn’t the bad guys mess with him when he  _wasn’t_  at work?? he needed the hours, damn it! The worst part of this was that they had gotten Meghan involved. Peter flew down the hallways of the facility, his lab coat flying out behind him.

Peter thought keeping Meg at a distance would keep her safe. He thought being Spider-man was the biggest liability to those close to him, but no. Now he was in trouble for something that was all Peter. Could Spider-man really fix his mistake?

Planning to change and drop into the warehouse as his alter-ego, Peter wasn’t expecting the strong hands that grabbed him the minute he stepped onto the street.

\----

_Peter, Peter. Please wake up_

Peter came-to with an awful headache, feeling like he’d been hit by a train. Again. “Meg?” He groaned, recognizing her voice.

“Oh my god, Peter,” Meg cried, “you’re alive.”

Memory crashed over Peter like a tidal wave. ARC’s experiments. Deadpool’s warning. The phone call.  _Meg_.

Peter scrabbled backward as he looked up, finding his hands and feet bound. Standing above him was the lady who’d called him, Peter had to guess. She was leering over him, but the most notable thing was,

“What did denim ever  _do to you?_ ” He squeaked.

The lady was wearing head-to-toe denim. Denim shirt, jacket, jorts, denim  _sandals_. Peter was pretty sure Meg was going to murder him for that outburst, but he couldn’t help it.  _Why??_

The lady frowned at him. “It’s hard to find a gimmick when all the good ones are taken?” She shrugged. “I have, however, created an enhanced denim that constricts when exposed to the cold, and I’ll happily use a collar of it on you and stuff you in an icebox, so I wouldn’t joke too much if I were you.” The lady stated it as if she were commenting on the weather.

Peter wanted to ask what the hell her name was, with an obsession like that, but Meg hissed in his ear as warning. Right, read the room. There had to be a way to get them both out of there-

“I’m sorry, this is by far the most boring warehouse rave I’ve ever crashed. Do I have the wrong address?”

- _without_  anyone getting killed,  _damn it Deadpool!_

Jeans lady turned, as Deadpool gunned down her lackeys in quick succession. “Deadpool,” she commented, “did you come here just to dance with me?”

It drew Deadpool’s attention to her, and to Peter and Meg huddled behind her, and then he did a double take back to her. “Holy Parton, lady, are you the biggest fan of the 2001 AMA’s or  _what_.”

Peter stamped down the urge to smile or laugh. But then his mouth betrayed him anyway. “I think his dance card is full.” He said as Meg angrily bumped her shoulder into him.

Deadpool took down the last two men as they came to inspect the gunshots, and Peter saw that Deadpool was at least aiming for nonlethal shots. It didn’t matter much when they’d rapidly bleed out, but hey,  _how picky could someone being rescued be?_ It was rather unfortunate that Peter was the reason Deadpool was having so much trouble matching Spider-man’s no-kill attitude as of late.

Peter didn’t know that he’d been in Deadpool’s arms yesterday. That when Deadpool looked at him, he saw someone who was supposed to be safe, and that he blamed himself for failing.

Jeans lady backed up closer to Peter as Deadpool advanced.

“You’re going to want to step away from the kid.” He threatened.

Peter shuddered. Deadpool’s voice was deep and angry. It also made warmth pool low in Peter’s abdomen, but there was no time for that.

The lady held her ground until Deadpool lunged with a katana he’d switched out to, and then she jumped out of the way. Meanwhile Peter tried to comfort Meg, who was crying softly beside him.

“I think my song may be ending after all,” She announced enigmatically. Deadpool’s katanas slashed through the empty air as he followed her. “But it’s been fun. Who knows, maybe you haven’t seen the last of-”

“No please, don’t tell me.” Peter floundered, having just had an awful idea.

“me, Billie Jean. Ta!”

Peter whined, “...I said _‘don’t,_ ’“ but nobody heard him.

And with that, jeans lady disappeared in a puff of blue smoke.

“Huh. Well this has been embarrassing,” Wade remarked, rounding on Peter and MJ.

Peter snorted in agreement. _How little are they offering that I’ve got G list villains after me_?

“No need to thank me, kids, this one’s on the house.” Deadpool sang as he cut through Meg’s ropes. She quickly got up and ran towards the door, nervously looking back. Peter’s bonds were next, and he stood, but didn’t move.

Police sirens screamed as cars approached the Warehouse.

Meg yelled for Peter to go with her.

Deadpool turned to go.

\----

“Wait,” Peter said, grabbing Deadpool’s bicep. Deadpool who just stared down at Peter’s hand on him. 

“You’re the one who-” Peter didn’t know how to- but he had to thank Deadpool, as Peter. Even if he didn’t approve of the methods, Deadpool had-  _C’mon brain, think so good, be so smart-_

“Don’t worry about it,” Deadpool murmured. 

He didn’t want Peter to have to say it. Any of it. It was obvious what the boy meant. Remembering the night he first saw him. Peter looked like he still wanted to find a way to get the words out though, so Deadpool ruffled the boy's hair. 

“You’re too cute!” Deadpool cooed. Finally making his way out of the building. “Stay out of trouble, okay? Make my job easier.” He yelled over his shoulder.

As officers flooded in, checking over Peter and Meg as Peter stared off after Deadpool, Peter knew that Spider-man had a conversation to have.

“PETER, WHAT THE  _FUCK?_ ” Meg yelled, tired of Peter not answering her calls.

And Meg. Meg deserved an explanation for why she’d been captured as a way to get to Peter. Thankfully, he just had to tell her about the Atomic Institute, and not about Spider-man. At least, not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oookay, here we are. Future sex scenes will pick up intensity as characters get closer. Things get more complicated next chapter. This is the first mlm scene I've ever written and I've done a lot of questioning my best bi guy's advice (my experiences and former written sex scenes all being f/m and wlw).
> 
> \- I did look up the Empire State College course catalog but honestly it's been a few days so I don't remember how accurate I made Peter's courses from my research. I do know the dance class is real. It's 3 credits. The more you know!  
> \- Okay the dance class is also a tribute to KotJcosplay and Santarosa_spidey. Check out their videos on instagram.  
> \- Fic title and chapter names come from Panic!'s Nicotine, which I discovered a long time ago on an 8tracks Spideypool playlist.  
> \- Pause is real, although from pictures it's really tiny. It's close to Peter's apartment though so eh.  
> \- Wade's sweater might as well be its own character I guess.  
> \- Wafels & Dinges is real, although most of its locations are foodtrucks.  
> \- Listen all of my info on Sugar relationships comes from google. I've had a very weird relationship with google these days.  
> \- Wade's gloves are most likely a kind of latex.  
> \- Consent is necessary. If I didn't manage to convey consent, please let me know.  
> \- Condom flavors are apparently ridiculous. But of course Wade would have the weird ones.  
> \- Fight scenes and villains are not my forte. Also I'm not following news about Michael Jackson, the villain's name is just an unfortunate result of my terrible denim idea.


	5. So I Say Damn Your Kiss And The Awful Things You Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spider-man has things to talk to Deadpool about, things happen. Then he has to give Wade an answer, and more things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm sorry because I can and should edit this better? Secondly, premature webbing. Amiright.  
> This chapter didn't behave. Misunderstandings aplenty.  
> Last note, skip the last part if you're in the anti-NSFW minority.

Explaining to Meg was easier than Peter had anticipated. Sitting together at Meg’s favorite french cafe, La Parisienne. Over coffee, Peter had confessed to everything that had happened at ARC.

”They created an unstable chemical by accident, and were just figuring out a way to weaponize it. Once detonated it would have a blast radius the size of Delaware, Meg, Delaware! The possibilities for domestic terrorism were unfathomable!”

Meg had stared at Peter with wide eyes, feeling concern for the man she, at least, considered a friend. As he continued,

“I’m just lucky that when the lab exploded, they hadn’t gotten the reaction working yet. I’ve got the paperwork with the correct chemical compound, and a schematic of the bomb, and that’s why they bad guys are after me.”

Meg had made the appropriate disgusted noises as Peter got out his story. She had placed her hand over Peter’s, simply listening and taking in what he was saying. When he finished, she gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Thank you. Is this why you didn’t want us getting close?”

Well, it wasn’t the whole reason, but Peter had said, “yes.”

Meg had leaned over to flick him on the forehead, telling him not to be such an idiot, facing something like that alone. It touched Peter’s heart. He liked Meg. Maybe it was time to start opening up to people again.

And with a promise that they’d become better friends, Peter had waved Meg off as she headed home to recuperate. Feeling just a little bit more  _right_  knowing that Meg would be a bigger part of his life.

That had been last night.

* * *

 

 

Now, Spider-man was sitting on his favorite rooftop near the Manhattan bridge, staring out at the east river as he swung his legs back and forth. It was nearing sunset, and it had been snowing all day. Spider-man was freezing, and he had an entirely different conversation to prepare for.

See the truth was, Peter was fond of Wade. Wade’s proposition wasn’t bad, and if their hangouts leaned more towards the movie and video game nights Wade had suggested, why not accept? Peter was also attracted to Wade, that was obvious. Peter’s face flushed pink beneath his mask, hitting the wall with his heel a little too hard. More than Wade’s good looks, it was how cherished and safe Peter felt wrapped in the man’s muscular arms. The few times Wade had touched him were electric (literally), and if Peter had never become Spider-man, he could see himself falling fast and hard. But Spider-man had a predicament. Because when he started thinking about Wade, he started thinking of  _Deadpool_. The more he thought, the more he realized his feelings for Deadpool. And after Deadpool had mentioned Peter, and saved him, the more Spider-man fell for him.

 _I need so much therapy. I need all the therapy._  Spider-man groaned, unaware that the source of his confusion was standing in the shadows.

Deadpool was enjoying the view. Wait, he was also angry. While he’d technically been back for four days and had intervened, he was fairly certain he’d asked Spider-man to  _watch Peter Parker._ It was like something was seriously wrong with Spider-man lately.

He should really give Spidey a piece of his mind. Or the silent treatment. 

Which lasted about five minutes before Deadpool couldn’t take watching Spider-man fidget and mutter to himself anymore. Deadpool threw his arms up in defeat, stalking over to the web-slinger.

“Hey, webs,” Deadpool said. “Thought you wouldn’t be out here with the snow.”

“Crime doesn’t stop when the weather changes,” Spider-man sighed, staring up at the clouds without looking over.

Well,  _true_. Deadpool cocked his head, feeling a little miffed. “Are you trying to make up for lost time?”  _Or get hypothermia?_ “Because let me tell you, that never ends well.”

[Don’t worry Spidey, Deadpool can warm you up!]

Spider-man looked over to him then, his eyes raking over the man’s familiar form. How built was Deadpool under the suit? Why had he never really  _looked_  at him before?

[Is there something on my mask?]

Deadpool couldn’t take Spider-man’s silent staring. It was making him feel things. Like scrutiny. And nervousness.

“Alright, intervention time!” Deadpool squealed as he tackled Spider-man sideways, tickling the boy under the arms.

Spider-man’s back was pressed into the snow-covered roof as Deadpool bore down on him. He could feel the back of his suit becoming damp, but he was already numb from cold. It was kind of nice to be tickled, because it made Peter feel like a kid again.

Spider-man giggled, laughing until he snorted. Jumping under Deadpool’s relentless touch, as he moved his hands all over to combat Deadpool’s fingers. But though he protested and squirmed, Spider-man didn’t throw Deadpool off of him. He was having  _fun_.

Deadpool stopped, bracing himself with hands on either side of Spider-man’s head. He looked down at the boy, who was attempting to catch his breath. Deadpool’s heart fluttered.

[He let us do that]

_What in the...?_

[[Is Spider-man dying?]]

“Spidey?” Deadpool whispered. Heat bloomed across his cheeks, as he felt Spider-man’s thighs between his knees. Eyes roaming the boy’s form from his toned chest, down to his waist. He could just grab onto those hips....

“Do you have a concussion, or are you a clone?” Deadpool broke the silence abruptly. “Because I need to know whether to wake you up every few hours or kill you.”

“Oh, get off.” Spider-man growled playfully, batting at Deadpool’s shoulders.

“Gladly.” Deadpool retorted. Not moving.

Spider-man squirmed. “Yeah?” He swallowed. Spider-man couldn’t fight his quickening arousal at Deadpool’s proximity, at feeling the warmth radiating off the merc. Allowing himself to be trapped under Deadpool’s body.

[ _!!!!_ ]

“Hey could you, um,” Spider-man flailed his hand as if they could speak for him. “My backside’s getting kind of drenched.”

[[Oh, there are  _so_  many responses to that.]]

Deadpool let out a low sound that rumbled through his chest, which was way too much for Peter right then. Luckily it was followed by Deadpool springing off Spider-man’s  _gorgeous, prone,_  shivering body.

“You sure, baby boy?” Deadpool rasped, eyes again trailing down to- “Because I might be easy but if I’m not mistaken, it looks like you’re hard.”

Spider-man sat up abruptly, accidentally knocking his forehead into Deadpool’s.

“Ow!” Both men chorused.

Deadpool sat back on his ass, knees still propped up over Spidey’s thighs. He held a hand to his forehead as Spider-man rubbed a hand over his own.

“Point taken!” Deadpool crooned.

 _Klutzy Parker strikes again_ , Spider-man thought miserably. The night was not going as planned. “I- I, um.” Spider-man spluttered. “Sorry?”

Deadpool looked at Spidey, and took pity. “Cold, hungry Spider.” He cried, leaning in to gather Spider-man in his arms. And yup, wouldn’t you know it, the back of Spidey’s suit  _was_  clinging wetly to the boy’s back. “I’m taking you home!”

“ _What?!_ ” Spider-man chirped. Again, very manly. Totally. But still he didn’t fight Deadpool’s hold. The merc’s chest was so warm, and Spider-man folded into Deadpool’s arms easily. He was just so damned  _cold_ , okay?

Although whatever had just happened had been lovely, Deadpool was growing more and more concerned over Spidey’s behavior, as well as the way the boy shook like a leaf in his arms.  _Spider-man! In his arms!_ This was definitely going in his diary.

Spider-man couldn’t have known that Deadpool had a safehouse apartment in that very building they were on, but he was trusting Deadpool, for wherever Deadpool took him. Deadpool couldn’t betray that trust.

\----

 

Spider-man came out of his daze on an outrageously pink couch. Blinking in surprise at the Hello Kitty comforter and Avengers themed throw blanket tucked in around him, which could only belong to one person. He was touched, really. Vaguely Spider-man remembered Deadpool carrying him out of the snow and wind. Part of him was screaming,  _what the fuck are you doing?_  But the other part of him felt happy and safe, and that part ultimately won out. There was a hint of curiosity in him, too.  _WWDD?_  What would Deadpool do?

The man in question was busy pouring cocoa packets into two mugs of steamed milk. He was wearing an old black hoodie and sweats, still masked,. Singing “' _Cause there's so many people here to be so damn lonely! Can I get a connection?_ ” When he turned and noticed Spider-man sitting up.

“Spidey!” Deadpool called, hurrying over while trying not to spill either mug’s contents. “Thank goodness, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to strip you while you were unconscious.” Again (Deadpool ‘13 Annual #2!).

“Why would you  _?!_ ” Spider-man protested, and then, oh right. His back was still wet from the snow. “Oh.” He muttered, sheepishly. Changing into dry clothes would be pragmatic. Spider-man wouldn’t have been able to fault Deadpool for that.

Deadpool walked over, setting a mug down on the coffee table in front of Spidey. Then he sat, as well. “Mmm,” he hummed, before changing his mind and shoving the second mug at Spidey’s chest. “Hold this, try to warm up a little.”

Spider-man blinked at the mug held out to him, but he took it in his numb, inept fingers. “Is this hot chocolate?” He asked, appreciative.

“Belgian. Just the best for my best friend!” Deadpool cheered. “Are your hands warming up?”

Peter’s fingertips stung. It was maybe too much heat all at once. “Maybe it’s best if I warm them up slower,” He replied honestly, setting the mug down.

 _Oh he could certainly warm the boy up, alright_. “Ooooh, I know just the trick!” Deadpool announced, not giving up. In a moment, Deadpool had Spider-mans hands pressed together between his, starting to rub warmth into the boy.

“Deadpool I don’t think-” Spider-man warned, but it was too late. His web shooters were triggered, shooting webs straight at Deadpool’s chest. The sticky substance covered his large chest, strings trailing to Spider-man’s wrists as the boy gaped in horror.

Deadpool stared down at himself.  _Did he just-_

Spider-man blinked. “Well, that’s never happened before,” he admitted. “I’ll just,” he said, detaching the webs, “be in the bathroom. Changing. And definitely not drowning myself out of embarrassment.” He cringed.

Deadpool was stuck between shocked glee and never being able to stop laughing. Ever. Somehow his silent delight shone through the mask.

“Which way is the...?” Spider-man bit out.

Deadpool silently pointed towards the bathroom, still beaming.

“There’s nothing wrong with being premature, baby boy! It happens to the best of us!” He called after Spidey.

[[Well it doesn’t happen to  _us_.]]

\----

Peter was pretty sure he could never show his face anywhere again, masked or not. Locking himself into the bathroom, he found a set of clothes already resting on the counter for him. Gratefully, he stripped off and pulled them on. Even if the pajama pants were printed with his own symbol, and the shirt said “bikini inspector”. He kept his mask on, of course. Although, thinking better of it, Peter took it off just long enough to towel off his hair with the pink towel hanging over the shower rail.

In the mirror, Spider-man stared at himself. “Come on, you can do this. You are going to have this talk.” He told himself. Why was this proving so difficult?!

“Spidey! Your cocoa’s getting cold~!” Deadpool reported from the livingroom.

 _It’s just Deadpool_ , Spider-man reminded himself. He left his soaked suit in the sink, and setting his web-shooters by Deadpool’s  _Brush Buddies singing toothbrush?_  Spider-man decided to ignore everything, taking a deep breath and leaving the bathroom.

Deadpool appraised Spider-man as the web-head slunk back to the couch. Pulling the blankets back over himself while glaring at Deadpool as if saying “make fun of me, I dare you.”

[Spidey looks so good in our clothes!]

[[He’d look good out of them, too.]]

As Spider-man held his glare, Deadpool chuckled. He couldn’t see Spider-man’s face, true, but he could feel the boy’s ire. The merc with the mouth mimed zipping his lips, reaching to place the untouched mug of cocoa in Spider-man’s hands.

It didn’t escape Spider-man’s attention that Deadpool was making every effort to be respectful and helpful, in his way. “Thanks, Deadpool.” Spider-man relented, pushing his mask up with one hand so he could drink.

They stayed like that, silently sipping from their respective mugs. Spider-man with his knees up, backed into the corner of the couch. Deadpool on the opposite side, right thigh touching Spider-man’s feet. And if Peter wiggled his toes under that warm thigh, well, Deadpool didn’t mention it.

The hour was growing late and with every passing minute, Spider-man was quickly losing his resolve. What with the strange turn of events, plus the temperature shock. “Hey,” he began, the same time Deadpool said,

“Spidey.”

And they both fell silent again. Well, verbally silent. Both men’s mind’s were racing. 

“You know you can tell me if anything’s wrong, right Webs?” Deadpool sighed, setting his empty mug aside. “I know I’m not really the one people go to for the touchy feel-y, but.” He looked down at his hands.

[Man, I  _wish_.]

This was it. This was Peter’s opening. “Actually, I did have something to ask you.”  _Here goes,_ Spider-man drew in a breath. “How do you know when you’re ready to  _be_  with somebody?” Well, that’s not exactly how he was planning to put it.

Deadpool was startled. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “Aww, Spidey, I  _always_  wanna be with you!”

Spider-man back-peddled. “No, well I meant, more in a,” Yup, more hand flailing, “way.” Great conversational skills. The  _best_.

Deadpool’s eyes went wide, landing on the most obvious conclusion to him. “Spidey-baby, you’re not talking about  _sex_  are you!” How  _scandalous_!

That’s not what! Well that might...  _no_!  
Spider-man very much wanted to crawl into a hole.

Deadpool, on the other hand, was very much delighted. “Aww, baby boy, do you want to role-play teacher & student after all?” He cooed.

[Oooh, nice call-back.]

[[We could still teach him a thing or two.]]

“No!” Spider-man shouted, hands up to punctuate himself. “No,” he repeated, softer, “I just wanted to know how you know, you know. Like, when’s the right time? And what if you’re not sure if that person really likes you back?” As in, how was he supposed to know if Deadpool would want something  _genuine_  with him? Unfortunately, that’s  _not_  what Deadpool’s mind was getting from the conversation.

[[Well that would require someone actually showing interest in us first.]]

Deadpool blushed, as the memory of being with Peter came to his mind unbidden. Wait _. Wait a god-damned minute._

 _“_ Spidey, _”_ Deadpool dead-panned. “This doesn’t have anything to do with what you asked me a week ago, does it?”  _Because if it does I will lock you in a safe room for eternity._

Spider-man thought back to that conversation, and how it  _had_  contributed to him seeing Deadpool in a different way, and yeah. “Maybe a little.” He admitted.

Deadpool shot up and off the couch, swearing colorfully. If Spider-man pressed himself farther into the couch in startled fear, well that was just a response anyone would have. His ears burned at the words coming out of the merc’s mouth, and given the things Deadpool usually said, that was saying something. Poor Peter was so confused.

“I swear I’ll kill whomever- Spidey if you’re in a-  _fuck_.” Deadpool seethed. Wild situations ran through his mind, developing out of control. Spidey in an abusive relationship, Spidey in  _any_  relationship, what if Spidey was stuck wondering if he had to.... Nah, couldn’t be. Could it?

Deadpool stilled. Noticing the rigidity to Spider-man’s posture as the boy valiantly tried to conceal that Deadpool was  _scaring him_. “Shit. Spidey,” Deadpool sighed, sitting back down and placing a comforting hand on the boy’s knee. “Any guy or gal that’s worth it will wait, and respect you. You’ll  _know_  when they make you feel safe, they’ll  _earn_  your trust. If they do that, and you like ‘em, ask them. But you also don’t have to rush into sex just because you like someone.”

It was admittedly good advice, unfortunately Spider-man only grasped onto the last part, and Peter notoriously had foot-in-mouth disease. “I don’t want to wait, though, if I know I like them...” he countered, “I don’t want to worry about someone I don’t want taking my first time from me!”

Oh, that was the wrong thing to say. Where the  **hell**  did that come from?? That was possibly  _the last thing_  he should’ve said  _what the fuck Peter!_

The air around Deadpool seemed to darken considerably as images began flashing through the merc’s mind. Spider-man asking about sexual assault, the cut on his arm, the way he held his side when Deadpool was handing him the pancakes, the ravenous hunger the boy exhibited, why he was sitting outside in the snow as if he had nowhere safe and warm to go.... All the ways Spider-man had been acting weird over the week, combined with his absence for weeks before that....

As wrong conclusions went, it wasn’t that far-fetched an idea for Deadpool to come to, given the evidence.

“Wait, Deadpool, that’s not what I meant. I meant, um.” Spider-man scrambled to fix whatever _the hell_ was happening _. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. At all...._

As if on cue, Spider-man’s stomach put its two-cents in.

There was a pause, where Deadpool might have said something else. Then, in a split second, he changed his mind. “Let me get you some soup.” He stated lowly, and abruptly got back up.

Spider-man wanted to protest that too, but the look Deadpool shot him was enough to quell the urge.

As Deadpool busied himself in the small kitchen, he tried to focus on just heating up the leftover minestrone from his fridge. Spidey was obviously hurting. If from nothing else, then at least from cold and hunger. Deadpool could deal with the other possibility later. With guns.

[Who would do this to Spidey??]

[[We’re definitely going on a manhunt, then?]]

With the soup heated up, and tested so Spider-man wouldn’t scald his tongue, Deadpool returned to the couch. Spider-man, who was trying hard to forget that any of that night had happened, took the bowl and began shoving spoonful after spoonful of the broth into his mouth.

Deadpool watched Spider-man like a hawk. He was still angry, and his mind was made up. “I want you to stay here tonight.”

Spider-man choked. “I was actually planning to do some studying tonight, so.” He protested. It was actually kind of true. Or well, it had been true. Peter had been planning to study, before all of  _this_  happened.

“No.” Replied Deadpool.

It was probably the most unyielding thing Deadpool had ever said to Spider-man. There was no room for argument in his voice. Maybe he wouldn’t stop Spider-man if the wall-crawler decided to leave anyway, but Deadpool sincerely hoped not to test that theory.

\----

 

The tension straining the atmosphere between them didn’t really alleviate. Not even when Deadpool shooed Spider-man to his bedroom and insisted he’d take the couch. Running around to get every pillow and blanket and piling them on top of the boy.

It wasn’t the worst, in a ‘how could it be any worse, really’ way, so Spider-man let him. But as Deadpool finally wound down, sitting by Spider-man’s side, there was something else unspoken between them. It probably wasn’t a good idea, but Spider-man wanted to try.

“Well, goodnight.” Deadpool said, defeated. But before he could move to get up, Spider-man’s hand was around his wrist.

“I,” Spider-man steeled himself. “I want to see your eyes when you say that.”

Deadpool froze, and Spider-man quickly tacked on a “please.”

And Spider-man  _did_. Peter did. He wanted to see the face of the man who had been his friend for over a year. The one who was taking care of him and giving up his bed for him.  _Wow, he was wanting a lot lately._

“You don’t know what you’re saying, baby boy. This face will give you nightmares.” Deadpool sadly answered, gently removing Spider-man’s hand and placing it on the bed with a pat.

But Spider-man wasn’t ready to give up. “Please, Deadpool?” 

Laying there, dwarfed by the blankets around him, mask still rolled over his nose. Deadpool could see Spider-man’s small smile, the eyes of his mask, body language earnest and open.  _Fine!_ Let the boy see the monster.

[[And possibly never want to see us again.]]

[I can’t watch.]

With careful precision, Deadpool raised his hands to the edge of his mask. Hesitantly, rolling it up slowly. Waiting for Spider-man to stop him, say he was kidding. Spider-man stayed silent and didn’t move, though, and so Deadpool peeled the mask all the way off.

Spider-man gasped, and Deadpool closed his eyes in anticipation of the boy’s scream... which never came.

Deadpool started as he felt gentle hands on his face. His eyes opened, to see that Spider-man had sat up. 

“Beautiful,” Spider-man breathed. He’d expected Deadpool’s skin. To be fair, it wasn’t the most attractive thing in the world. Deadpool’s features were nice though, he had a strong chin and sharp cheekbones. But no, Spider-man was looking into Deadpool’s eyes.

In the low bedroom light, they took on a steel-blue hint. They were cool, not warm, but they were beautiful, and they fit Deadpool.  _Damn, do I have a thing for blue eyes?_  Peter hadn’t noticed that about himself before.

Meanwhile, Deadpool didn’t dare to breath. Not when Spider-man was touching him. Touching his face. And that sure didn’t look like horror Spidey was exhibiting. It was more than Deadpool could hope for, even if it  _didn’t make a lick of sense_.

“Can I kiss you?” Spider-man murmured, flicking his gaze to the merc’s chapped lips.

[[Neither does that.]]

[ _Yes??!?_ ]

 _Guess Christmas came a month early... but_ “Are you kidding me?!” Deadpool snapped, shoving Spider-man’s hands off him. “After what you told me tonight?”

Spider-man reeled back. “I’m trying to tell you, it’s not whatever it sounded like!” He complained.

[Are we going to buy that?]

[[No.]]

“Even if it’s not, baby boy.... You can’t want to kiss..  _this_.” Deadpool gestured to his face. 

Well, Spider-man could and did, but he figured Deadpool still wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying and what he wanted. Besides, Peter hadn’t kissed anyone in years....

“I get it. You wouldn’t want to kiss me. After all, you don’t know where my mouth’s been,” he goaded, turning Deadpool’s self-depreciation back on himself.

“That’s not,” Deadpool groaned. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” This was incredulous. Was Spidey purposely taunting him?

Spider-man moved closer again, laying a hand on Deadpool’s thigh. “It’s just a kiss.” He promised, quietly. 

_Damnfuckshitmotherhell-_

Wade,  _Deadpool_  surged forward, claiming Spider-man’s,  _Peter’s_  lips with his own. His kiss was bruising. Nipping at Peter’s bottom lip, begging to be let inside. A small, thready sound escaped Peter as he parted for Wade’s tongue. Deadpool’s answering growl sent a jolt down Peter’s spine and he shuddered.

Then Deadpool broke the kiss. Still a hair’s breadth away, Spider-man felt answering, panting breathes ghosting across his face. Feeling elated and dizzy.

In for a penny, in for a pound. Deadpool pressed a softer kiss to Spider-man’s lips, allowing the boy to respond in kind. When he pulled away gently, he rested his forehead against the boy’s. Deadpool knew, as exhilarating as that first passionate kiss had been, Spider-man deserved to know a softer love, too.

“Goodnight, baby boy,” Deadpool whispered. This time Spider-man could see the way Deadpool’s face softened as he said it.

And just like that, Deadpool was gone.

In the dark, Spider-man wondered what he was going to do. All he knew was that, after Deadpool’s anger and outbursts earlier, and with everything else... there was no way he could tell Deadpool about Wade.

* * *

 

 

_You came in with the breeze..._

On Sunday morning, snow fell past Wade’s main apartment. Paint dried in spots where Deadpool had punched (and then filled in) holes in the walls. The kitchen trash can was full of broken pieces. A lamp, a couple plates, and a picture frame. Otherwise, the flat was deceptively clean. Not showing the true extent of damage Deadpool had done on it the previous afternoon, after he had woken up to Spider-man gone. The worst of the destruction was contained to Deadpool’s personal room... where his blood still dripped down the walls.

He replayed the events of the past three days over in his head. The attack on Peter,  _Spidey_.... 

With two days left to get the stolen paperwork, Wade wasn’t sure if he’d survive how things were going with the young men in his life. He felt conflicted. He’d already emotionally committed himself to Spider-man, but there was something drawing him to Peter all the same.

[We went from having no-one to having two (2) of the best boys ever!]

Which brought Wade back to the text on his phone.

_Wade, can I come over to give you my answer? -P_

Wade was still hoping Peter would take his offer. If the inconspicuous black trash bag full of new winter coats, jeans, and sweaters in the corner of the room was any indication. But he still wasn’t sure if he was ready to see Peter. Not after Spider-man...  _that kiss_.

Wade’s intercom chirped, causing him to jump. Gah, what was he wearing? Did he look okay? He sped over to buzz Peter in. While he waited for Peter to come up, Wade checked his green t-shirt over for lint. His thin black gloves were back on, and the Image Inducer on his wrist. There was a tentative knock on his door, and Wade steeled himself.

Throwing the door open to, “Peter!” he grinned.

Peter smiled in kind, stepping past Wade into the room and toeing off his shoes. Stray flecks of snow fell off them, though Peter had stamped them on the lobby mat. “Hey, Wade.” He said.

[[Deja vu, much?]]

They moved to the kitchen island, Peter sitting on a stool while Wade remained standing. Peter messed with one of the tassels on his green jacket, prompting Wade to glance over at the trash bag for a moment. That jacket still had to go.

“I have a question,” Peter broke the silence.

Snapping his eyes back to the boy, Wade swallowed. “Of course, Petey. Hopefully I have an answer!”

Peter wondered if this might be the end, but he had to know. “This... financially beneficial relationship, would it be exclusive?” He started.

Wade’s eyes widened. Was that what Peter wanted? Because he didn’t think he could-

“Because there’s someone I’m kind of, interested in at the moment.” Peter finished.

Air whooshed out of Wade’s lungs. “Of course, you can see anyone you want! That’s not the kind of relationship I’m looking for.” Well, he might be, if it weren’t for the other man at the forefront of Wade’s mind. His relief barely won out over his disappointment that Peter wouldn’t want just plain-old Wade.

Peter, on his part, had given this a lot of thought. There was still so much he hadn’t done yet, and he was sick of it. Despite Deadpool’s worry over him. Especially with Deadpool thinking him inexperienced. Peter wanted to get as much out of this arrangement as possible, even if he was being greedy.

“Okay, I’ll quit working the streets.” Peter agreed. “But I’ll be giving up something I enjoy for you, so I was hoping you could show me a few things in return.” He added slyly.

 _This kid’s going to be the death of me_ , Wade squirmed.

“Like what?” Came out of Wade’s mouth without his permission.

Peter locked onto the way Wade looked both turned on and like he could jump out the window just to get away from him. It was honest, and raw. It instilled something powerful in Peter. Something that felt like control.

“I want you to show me how to be touched.”

\----

So the day Wade Winston Wilson died for good, went like this. With the assurance from a young boy that  _yes_ , he really wanted Wade to do this, and with Wade rambling and heating up until he was ready to explode, until both men were sitting on Wade’s bed.

What would Wade do if Peter were Spider-man? If he got to show him how to relax, how to lean into touch. How to be held like the precious thing he was? How to be  _devoured_? But how could he touch Spider-man when he may have been hurt by touch? Deadpool didn’t deserve to even dream about it. And Peter, what did he owe Peter? Because he certainly owed the boy  _something_. 

Was that  _guilt_  he was feeling?

Peter was honestly stunning. He’d taken his shirt off when they entered the bedroom, exposing the smooth, ivory skin beneath. His chest was well-defined, and sturdy, Wade found with surprise. Of course he’d felt those muscles from when Peter had lain on him, but that was through the fabric of their shirts. It was different from seeing it.

Wade tentatively reached out, trailing a gloved fingertip across Peter’s clavicles. Moving his hand down to pass over the boy’s steadily hardening buds.

Peter stayed still, but he was sensitive. Something in the way Wade was looking at him was turning him on, along with his barest touches. He wasn’t used to being touched. Certainly never like this. His few failed relationship so far, he’d done the giving, and- 

Wade pinched one of his nipples, and Peter bit down before he made a sound. With his other gloved hand, Wade held Peter’s side. It was a comforting pressure, and then those hands were moving, caressing down to the waistband of his jeans.

“ _Two conditions- no wait, three._ ” Wade had said. “ _One, I’m not undressing. Clothes, gloves, watch, they stay on._ ” Otherwise Peter might feel his scars. “ _Two, no touchy the face._ ” He’d paused, because the last condition was crucial. “ _And three, which is most important. I am not going to fuck you_.”

Peter shivered though the room was warm, as Wade continued to trace his skin. Until he felt like he would lose it if Wade didn’t  _do something already_.

“Wade,” Peter whined, reaching for Wade’s hands. The man grabbed Peter’s wrists, and pinned his hands to the bed.

The look Wade shot him definitely said No Interfering, but then he tilted his head. Just as Peter had done, except now it was Peter’s turn to nod his consent. Wade nodded back, switching his hands from Peter’s hands, to the boy’s slim shoulders. He pushed, guiding Peter to lie on his back.

“You can take off your pants,” Wade told him, “but no touching.”

Peter complied, raising his hips to slide his jeans and blue boxer-briefs down. His dick, already hard, sprang up, and Wade hummed in appreciation.

With his hands gloved, Wade knew he had to grab lubricant from the dresser, leaving Peter exposed on the bed. For Peter, it added to his anticipation. Because when Wade finally touched him, grasping his shaft, it was  _wonderful_.

Peter’s pupils were wide, Wade noted. Focusing on the task of giving Peter as much pleasure as possible. That was the least he could do, he thought, pouring a small amount of Pink silicone lube into his hand. The boy whimpered as the cool liquid touched him, and Wade’s hand lavished him from base to tip.

“How are you doing, baby?” Wade asked in a hushed tone.

Maybe it was the reality of being on Wade’s bed, having just asked him to touch him, but Peter felt a flush of embarrassment even as he gripped the bed sheets. “Good, ‘m good.” He managed. “Don’t stop.”

And Wade didn’t, continuing to pump Peter as he wet the pointer finger on his other hand. Then he was gently circling Peter’s tender opening, and the boy struggled not to writhe. “Ngh.” He cried, but Wade wasn’t done. “Deep breathes for me, Peter.” And when he was ready, Peter’s breath hitched as Wade stuck his finger inside. Filling him just that small amount, leading Peter to wonder what it would feel like to be stretched further....

The sensation was overwhelming Peter. Lost in the feel of hands on him, though he wished he could feel Wade’s skin. As Wade began methodically rubbing that tender spot, Peter’s toes curled and he grabbed at Wade’s shirt. Pulling, though the man didn’t budge. There was a build of pressure, of pleasure, guiding Peter to buck his hips and whine.

“Wade!” Peter pleaded. “Wade, please, Wade, I’m gonna-”

“Cum.” Wade ordered.

Peter did, white-hot waves of pleasure rocketing through him as he covered his chest, white liquid pooling on his stomach. Wade had withdrawn his finger, and pressed his cleaner hand to Peter’s chest. As the boy panted, Wade thought he was the second most beautiful human in the world. So, yeah. Wade was pretty sure he’d died and gone to heaven.

“I’ve got you, Peter,” He said as Peter went boneless, cold as his body cooled and he grew hungry from exertion. “I’m here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- La Parisienne is south, closer to Horizon Labs than Peter's apartment.  
> \- Thank you terrible pick-up lines sites.  
> \- the Avengers blanket is a direct result of the Avengers blanket I own, and connected to the Spider-man pillow cover and Cap shield pillow I have.  
> \- One Republic's Connection.  
> \- I wrote this BEFORE getting comments on chapter 4, but I'll still give credit to Biokinetic for the foot-in-mouth line.  
> \- No Doubt, Sunday Morning.  
> \- I am not a fan of Pink brand lube, but OhJoySexToy says it's better for anal than my go-to Sliquid Sea.


	6. Just One More Hit And Then We're Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade learns Peter's secret, and then Deadpool more or less royally screws everything up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is questionable content at the end of this because Deadpool's an idiot. Don't read after "With a chocolate fountain, and doves" if you wanna avoid that. Everything will be okay in the end. The two idiots are definitely in love, after all.

When all was said and done, Wade had asked Peter to stay over. When Peter cited work in the morning as a reason he had to go home, Wade had saddled him with the bag of clothes and another wad of bills. Insisting Peter put on one of the heavier coats, and burn his old one. “ _It’s practically begging to die, Peter. Put it out of its misery._ ” Wade had said. They had then settled on an agreement that Peter would meet Wade at Union Market after work so that Wade could buy him food.

 _First money, then clothes, now food,_ Peter had muttered. The clothing bag in question was full of more clothes than Peter imagined it could hold. He’d discovered that once home, pulling item after item after item out until various fabrics coated his living room. Having had to carry the thing onto the subway was already ridiculous, and the why of it made more and more sense as he dug deeper into the bag. The few stares he got on the subway had made him uncomfortable, to top it off. Luckily, not much phases the NYC crowd.

There were the practical things, like jeans and coats, but also taco-printed pajamas. A full suit, though crumpled. A pair of Deadpool-themed boxers which made Peter throw the entire bag to the far side of the room. He hadn’t figured out what to do about Deadpool, after all. He hadn’t known Wade was a fan, either. Though it did make some sense....

Next Peter had pulled on the taco pajamas. The shirt was a short-sleeve button up and it was paired with long pants. The cut was a little effeminate, but it was comfy. But before he could sink into his uncomfortable couch, he had one more thing to do. Counting the money from Wade. 

He had two envelopes of cash stuffed in the drawer of the side-table by the door. One from when he’d first gone to Wade’s, a thousand and five hundred. The five hundred was for sharing dinner, the thousand was for hanging out which turned into, well.... And as Peter counted the second envelope, he got to two thousand and stopped.

That had been a lot of money for him to be walking around with, Peter thought dryly. It, along with the money he had saved from when he met Wade, was enough to cover the next three months’ rent. Then he had enough to budget food, maybe even put a little away for his student loans.

Peter really, really didn’t have the mental capacity to freak out over the money or wonder if Wade had ulterior motives. So far, Peter had made all the moves, and the money was a blessing he couldn’t afford to over-look. So he didn’t. He was also a little sore and tired.

So instead, he spent the rest of the night refining his ideas for the prototype of Horizon’s new energy, again using notes from the stolen ARC research. If nobody else was going to hire him, at least he could do his best at his main job. It had been a  _week_! And no work calls! (well, five days, to be precise)

Peter hadn’t even noticed how exhausted he was when he fell asleep on the couch.

* * *

 

 

Which brought him to Monday, sitting across from Meg in the cafeteria.

“I’m telling you, you’ll love Sue! We have to all get together sometime. Maybe you can bring someone too?” Meg suggested, full of mirth. Peter just enjoyed her company, though he was admittedly playing with a fry more than paying attention. “You’re not listening to me, are you.” Meg noted.

Peter was nodding before his brain caught up to him. “I’m listening! I was- I was not listening,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’m sorry Meg.”

“Mhm,” Meg vocalized. “Earth to Peter. Hello! You should be excited! Dr. Modell said he’d take a look at your proposal. That’s big news.” She said, excited enough for the both of them.

Unfortunately, Peter wasn’t really living in the present. “I’m sorry Meg,” he repeated, sighing. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind. I’d love to meet your girlfriend.”

Meg narrowed her eyes at Peter. In her scientific mind, she ran some calculations. Taking in Peter’s slightly more relaxed posture, the way he seemed to have put on at least one pound. The skin under his eyes, still dark, but in more of a ‘didn’t sleep’ than a ‘never sleeps’ way. “Ah-ha!” She crowed, snapping her fingers. “You’ve got a boyfriend!” and, to be fair, “or a girlfriend.” She amended.

Peter blushed a lovely scarlet, an occurrence which was becoming way too frequent as of late. “I did not!” He protested. “I got a sugar-” ahhhh, _shut up, shut up, shut up!_

If possible, Meg became louder and more elated. Peter looked around, worried people would start staring at them. “You got a  _sugar daddy_?” She crowed.

“Keep your voice down!” Peter begged.

To Meg’s credit, she stayed still for at least 12 seconds before poking at Peter’s arm on the table. “You sly fox! Is he loaded? What’s he gotten you?”

 _One orgasm, too many clothes, and a headache_? “I don’t know. And clothes, I guess?” Peter replied glumly.

“But you aren’t happy,” Meg deduced.

That was the heart of it, wasn’t it? By all accounts, Peter  _should_  be happy. “There’s another guy,” he mumbled.

Meg full on squealed. “ _Oh_. Love triangle! Kudos, bookmarked and  _subscribed_. Color me intrigued.”

How to put it into words though? That one man was such an unexpected gift in his life, who got  _Peter_ ; while the other was unpredictable, was admittedly his closest friend for some time now, and got  _Spider-man_? Peter tried to explain all this to Meg, without revealing names or the friendly neighborhood screw-up.

Meg listened to her friend’s story. Her poor friend. Although she thought this was hilarious and she was happy Peter was opening up to others and had people to care for him, she could see he was stressing about it hard. “So the problem is that each man has seen a different side to you, and you’re not sure if they’ll get the whole you, or who would be better able to?”

Peter grunted from where he’d smushed his face into the table. “Guuuuhh.”

“Peter!” Meg flicked him on the forehead. “Just try showing them the other side! Open up a little more, you never know. Maybe they’ll surprise you.”

Peter peered up at her, why did people being right have to be so annoying? Let him wallow in peace, dang it! “Thanks Yoda.”

Meg smiled warmly. “You’re welcome, idiot padawon. Now eat your sandwich.”

* * *

 

 

It started snowing again as Peter walked the two blocks from the 2nd avenue station near his apartment. At a little after 3:30, Peter was running late. He could see Wade, standing under the grocery’s awning to stay out of the snow. He was wearing a darker red sweater than the one Peter still had. The blond was scanning the street for Peter, which warmed the boy’s heart. Then those warm blue eyes were on him, and his heart skipped.

Wade relaxed, spotting Peter. The boy was stopped a good distance away. Wearing a new black peacoat, snow clinging to his unruly brown hair. Wade felt his frustrations ease. He had spent all night scouring the city for Webs, followed by drinking his sorrows at Hellhouse until Weasel chased him out. It had taken a heavy toll on his spirit.

[All our friends are so  _rude._ ]

“Hey jailbait!” Wade called, putting his hands around his mouth.

Peter shook his head, blushing as a couple people turned their heads. It broke him out of his trance though, and he walked the rest of the way over to Wade.

“Hey Wade,” He huffed. “So we’re grocery shopping?”

Wade clapped his hands, taking Peter’s arm in his gloved hand. “Yup! Because I don’t trust you to feed yourself.”

“Gee. Thanks.” Peter shot back. He could feed himself. He was excellent at feeding himself. At least 4 times a week, maybe 5.

\----

In the end, Wade wound up helping Peter cart the dozens of grocery bags back to his apartment. Each of them competing for who could carry the most. They were pretty evenly matched, in the end. And the atmosphere between them was light-hearted and easy. When they got to apartment 23B, Peter struggled to get his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, kicking it in.

Wade dropped everything he was caring the second he got a look into the room.

He knew it must be bad, but not this bad. Oh, _Peter_. “Damn bitch, you live like this?!” He squawked.

“I’m not a bitch, you’re a bitchy bitch.” Peter whined, going in to start putting things away in the kitchen. Letting Wade flail in the doorway, muttering to himself as he did.

Finally as he finished with the refrigerated goods, Peter was fed up. “Are you coming in, or what?” He shot over his shoulder.

Wade complied, but there was no way he could just ignore the bare apartment he was walking into. “Okay, we are  _so_  going online and buying you new furniture. Immediately.”

* * *

 

 

It was actually really comforting to have Wade over. Like when he had friends over back in highschool. When Harry would sit on the couch at aunt May’s and tease Peter about his crush, or Gwen would smile at him over the dining table and they’d gossip about their teachers. 

Maybe someday he would have Meg over, when his apartment didn’t look so sad. Which wouldn’t be long, considering Wade was true to his word and had already purchased a new couch and a mattress for Peter. Both of which had enough 0′s on their price tags to make his head spin.

“Hey, Peter!” Wade called from the kitchen, where he was mixing ingredients and getting out cheese for tuna melts. He had insisted on making dinner. It seemed best not to argue, so Peter was spread out on the couch, trying to memorize a passage from Brain & Behavior.

“Peter!” Wade tried again to get the young brunette’s attention. He pouted, pointing an accusing spatula towards the Peter-shaped couch lump. “Would you come over here and study at the kitchen table like a normal person?”

Peter scoffed, not looking up. “No,” He answered, “I do all my best work laying down.”

[[Alright that got me.]]

Wade snorted. “Careful, Petey, or you’ll get the aunt Jemima treatment!” He warned, not one to be outdone. Peter ignored him, so he went back to placing two sandwiches in a pan on the stove. Soon Wade was flipping each sandwich so they’d brown evenly, quietly singing “ _I could be wholesome, I could be loathsome, I guess I'm a little bit shy_ ”

\----

When dinner was ready, both men sat on the couch, which managed to be too hard and too soft at the same time. Laughing at jokes and exchanging questions. Like favorite TV show (Wade’s was ‘Golden Girls’), and favorite color (Peter absentmindedly said ‘blue’).

After Wade set his empty plate down on the floor, he picked up Peter’s laptop. “Okay, game time!” He cheered. “Best video to explain your sexuality, go!”

Peter rolled with it, but didn’t have much of an idea. Until, oh wait. “Beautiful Trauma, P!nk. You?”

Wade hummed in approval. “Me too!”

“You can’t take mine,” Peter protested.

Chuckling, Wade amended, “The conclusion to the long long man commercials. Or Bowie, definitely Bowie. Or oh, that British guy’s lip sync battle.”

[Are we allowed to say that?]

 _I don’t know, but #same at Zendaya’s reactions._ “So, what’s first on your watchilst, Petey?”

“On youtube?” Peter clarified. When Wade gave him a look like ‘what, you have a TV or movies or a Netflix account stashed in a magic cupboard somewhere?’ he shrugged. “Starkid’s Twisted?”

* * *

 

 

Morning light filtered into Peter’s small bedroom window. Wade felt a warm back pressing into his chest, someone’s head tucked under his chin. Brown hair sticking up from the static, from the Image Inducer masking Wade’s face. Wade rubbed his face in that soft hair, and the boy in his arms responded. And whoa, Wade was not ready to have someone rub their ass on his crotch that early in the morning.

Vaguely Wade remembered watching Twisted with Peter. Snuggling on the couch, prodding him to share a joke at 125 minutes and 26 seconds in, about Disney mergers. Discovering the boy breathing deeply in sleep. After that Wade had carried Peter to his bed, covering him as best he could with the one moth-eaten comforter the boy owned. With a kiss to Peter’s head, Wade had snuck off to continue his search for Spider-man.

After hours ticked by, and only two hours prior, Wade had crept back into Peter’s apartment, collapsing on the bed. He could have sworn he’d passed out on the opposite side from Peter, but eh. Things happen.

Peter, maybe sensing that his bedmate was waking up, followed suit. The first thing he noticed was that he ached. He pushed himself back further into Wade’s unyielding skin, feeling that tell-tale hardness against his lower back. There was a low chuckle behind him, and Peter wanted to complain that he wasn’t being pulled closer in response.

“G’morning, gorgeous.” Wade murmured, having moved his face away to create some distance. “Wakey wakey.”

Peter, who was a Not Morning Person forced into a morning world, was rejecting routine for the overwhelming desire to stay where it was warm. As he felt the furnace that was Wade beside him.

“No.” He announced, petulantly.

Wade chuckled again, poking at Peter’s sides until he jumped and grumbled. Then, in a move which surprised him, Peter rolled over and pinned Wade to the bed.

Two pairs of surprised, suddenly awake eyes stared at each other. Peter felt his arousal growing more insistent, and Wade must have noticed.

What Wade noticed, was the hopelessly turned on and beautiful boy hovering over him. Skin and hair glowing in the morning light. He reached out to caress Peter’s cheek with one gloved hand, the other finding the small of his back.

Peter shuddered, tilting his hips forward and rocking down. Drinking in the hunger which sparked within Wade’s eyes. But when Peter leaned in for a kiss, Wade stopped him.

With a finger on Peter’s lips, Wade knew this couldn’t go any farther. “This has got to stop.” He said firmly.

Peter felt like he was free-falling. And not in a fun way, but in an  _I crossed the line and I can’t find the ground_  way. He rolled off Wade, stunned. He didn’t move, not even when Wade patted his shoulder and left, presumably to use the bathroom and leave for good. The worst part? Peter was still uncomfortably hard.

\----

Safe to say Peter was not expecting to walk out of the bedroom and see Wade making eggs. He blinked as Wade looked over to him.

“Nice to see you grumpy! We okay? I’m making breakfast.” The older man announced, cheerily.

It was just about way too much energy for Peter for being a whole hour and a half before his alarm. “Yeah, I guess.” He sulked, walking over to drop into his one rickety chair.

“Dang, baby.” Wade remarked, serving up a plate for Peter. “Show me where mornings gave you a bad touch?” He asked, setting the food on the card-table in front of Peter.

Peter grunted. Eggs weren’t going to win him over. Probably. “Mornings ransacked my village, destroyed my crops, and sunk my ships.” He grumbled.

Once Peter had eaten and dressed for work, he felt a little bit better. Aside his guilt from the morning. He shouldn’t have pushed Wade as far as he had. He knew Wade had a thing about his face.

Wade handed him his laptop bag (which he’d already searched, while Peter was taking his time getting out of bed), and they walked out onto the street together. Wade’s mind was focused on the fact he had until tomorrow morning to finish his job. He didn’t really know what came after that. The boy was becoming too dear to him. It wasn't fair to Peter.

Peter wasn’t going, though. He was waiting for Wade to say something, so Wade had to  _say_  something. He just couldn’t.

[Combo breaker?]

[[Speechless isn’t a good look for us, turns out.]]

“Do you...” Peter started, when it was clear Wade wasn’t going to break the silence. “Do you want to get brunch tomorrow?”

And  _fuck him_ , Wade couldn’t say no to Peter. “Yeah, of course cutie.” He ruffled the boy’s hair with a soft smile. Then he blew a kiss to him and winked, walking away in the opposite direction of the subway. He’d take his time making the block, and then double back.

\----

Peter’s apartment was even more depressing without its sole occupant. There were textbooks strewn across the floor, the few dishes Peter owned in the sink to be washed. There weren’t too many places  _to_  hide anything. The obvious spot in the side table by the door just had the money he’d given Peter.

What if Peter had taken the papers with him somehow? Why did everything have to be so hard?

[That’s not the only thing-]

[[-We’re not picking low-hanging fruit.]]

Focus. Where could some damn formulas and bomb scribbles really be? Aha! Under the bed! Well, that’s where Deadpool hid things anyway.

Wade let out a noise of triumph when he pulled out a lockbox under the bed, which he fished for on his stomach. It looked ridiculous, really. Fully convinced the box held what he was looking for, Wade sat on the creaky bed and pried it open with a knife. 

[I don’t want to know where we were keeping that.]

But there were no ARC notes in there. Instead, there was an old camera and pictures. Tons of pictures. There was one of an older woman standing next to Peter as a child. Peter as a teenager, laughing with a blonde girl while another guy had his arm over their shoulders. A picture with a boy with fluffy blond hair.

There were some more pictures like that, but the majority of the pictures were of  _Spider-man_. A blurry photo of Spider-man’s foot over a shot of The Sphere in battery park. A close shot of Spider-man with a beautiful sunset in the background. Wade dropped the box on the bed.  _Peter did take photos of Spidey for the Bugle._...

Slapping himself, Wade refocused. Going to open Peter’s closet. The top shelf was dusty, but there were a couple sheets of paper stuck in one corner. Even though Wade was tall, he had to stand on his toes to grab the papers. As he did, he knocked over a box that had been precariously placed.

Things seemed to go into slow motion as Wade tried to catch it, dropping the ARC papers in the process. The box fell, spilling out soft blue and red cloth and a web-shooter prototype, which clattered and slid across the floor. What the shit.

There was also a worn journal, which Wade picked up with shaking hands. He turned to the first page that had writing on it.

_Day 4 after the incident at the exhibit - still sticking to walls. I can see better every day. What the hell? Is this a part of puberty I didn’t know about?_

_Day 5 post - I broke Flash’s arm! I was just trying to push him off me!_

_Day 7 - It’s been a week, I don’t think this is normal._

_[Oh my god]_

[[Huh.]]

Wade held his breath as he frantically flipped through the other pages. Eventually the diary-like entries gave way to costume designs, web-shooter schematics, formulas for web fluid.

He threw the journal down with force and fell back on his ass. Wade was howling. He was keening, half crawling to grab the old Spider-man suit that had spilled out of the box. 

Wade was crying as he held the suit to his face, but he didn’t know why. Because there was  _no way in hell_  the boy he had seen grabbed in an alleyway, the boy who went down on his knees in front of him, was the  _same boy_  who had asked to kiss him. _The same hero he'd been hanging out with for over a year_.

And then, oh then, Deadpool was angry.

Deadpool was livid. 

Why had Spider-man let things get that bad? Why hadn’t he asked Deadpool for help?  _Why hadn’t he ?_ The boy had caused him so many problems.  _Fuck Crotchrot Motherfucker_ , Deadpool had taken the job to  _kill_  Peter!

Deadpool  _grit_  his teeth and tore the fabric in his hands. No wonder Spider-man had acted like he did. And, oddly enough, it was starting to make sense why Peter said he had someone else....

[He likes us!]

[[Don’t get ahead of yourself.]]

But Deadpool had already grasped onto the possibility, and it made him wish he could  _take it all back_. Go back and do everything the right way. Take Spider-man in and earn his trust until he revealed himself, shown Peter that he was loved.  _Completely loved and adored_.

Peter deserved so much better than Deadpool. Than  _Wade_. Soon tears were welling up and spilling over, tracking down his cheeks again as he sobbed.

He’d forgotten the ARC notes, laying innocently beside the toppled box that turned his world upside down. As Wade sniffled and spotted the papers, he knew. Peter Parker was Spider-man. 

[Are we on stage 5  _already_?]

[[ _Shut. Up._ ]]

Deadpool also knew two additional things.

One, Peter was his responsibility, and Deadpool had to turn over the reports to clear his name.

And two, Spider-man was the man he loved, and was most likely going to  _kill_  him.

\----

_“Peter, we’ve looked over your proposal, and after initial testing it’s ready to undergo a final trial.”_

_“I’m very happy to hear that, Sir.”  
_

_“Keep your fingers crossed. This could be the breakthrough we’ve been looking for. You might make a name for yourself, yet.”_

* * *

 

 

Hours passed and day turned to night. Tuesday was ending, but as far as Deadpool was concerned, it was the longest day of his life. He lay on Peter’s bed, fully dressed in his red suit. Image Inducer off, but clasped to his wrist. Waiting. Waiting was  _hard_. Waiting was  _excruciating_.

He had already gone to finish his job. Weasel said Fisk was upset it took so long, but that the worm agreed Peter would be forgotten by all parties. Then Deadpool had beaten up a few thugs on his way to break into Peter’s apartment. It was cathartic. But Peter hadn’t shown up.

Deadpool sang to pass the time. Bad Day, Impossible, and Apologize. He crooned Ashes, and even danced around snapping his fingers to his off-key version of Would You Be So Kind. When he was seriously considering singing Peter Pan, Deadpool decided it was time to take direct action.

\----

Deadpool found Spider-man doing flips on a roof near Titanic Memorial Park. Flips. Deadpool gave a humorless laugh. Feeling exceptionally strange as Spider-man noticed him and cartwheeled over. What did Peter have to be so happy about when Deadpool’s life had just undergone a wash cycle?

“Deadpool!” Spidey said. “I got the best news today.”

“Huh.” Deadpool said. He hadn’t actually seen Spider-man that happy in a very long time. He’d never seen  _Peter_  that happy.

[[He certainly wasn’t that happy when he left this morning.]]

[How could we  _spoil_  Spidey’s happiness _?!_ ]

Deadpool couldn’t. He just... couldn’t. “Wow, that’s great, baby boy! What are we celebrating?” Deadpool squee’d. Pressing his hands to his cheeks, Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to wait until brunch to confess.

Peter was practically vibrating with positive energy, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s a secret, but I might have discovered something big. It would literally change my life if true.” As in, he might be able to afford his own  _Netflix_  account, if he got a bonus for his discovery at work.

Deadpool was drowning in pride and guilt. “That’s GREAT, Spidey. Spi-ter.” Oh for the  _love_  of.

“Can we get tacos and go to yours?” Spider-man asked, ignoring Deadpool’s slip-up. He just wanted to celebrate with his best friend. To be fair, he had no way of knowing Wade had been waiting for him in his apartment all day.

Deadpool swallowed. Hard. “Yeah, of course! I’ve got a Switch somewhere. We can play Just Dance!”

Clearly, though, the spider had other things on his mind, because Peter fidgeted, and then he was sauntering over. Like the sexy piece of ass he was. The things Deadpool knew that ass could do. This was going to be interesting.  _Also, help!!!_

 _“_ I don’t know,” Spidey drew out. “I’d rather play something else. Like we did the other night.”

Now if  _that_  didn’t send tingles down Deadpool’s spine. He knew exactly of what Peter was capable, after all. “Oh baby, when you talk like that!” He grinned.

[[ _Shakira_ , really?]]

But also, “Hey wait a minute. Why did you take off on me? I woke up and you were gone, Spidey! I was really worried.” It was very true. Considering how much he had freaked out over the boy’s safety. Considering he had  _died_  from the worry - well, he couldn’t die permanently, but it still happened. 

Of course, now he knew Peter had been safe with him on Sunday and Monday. But what of Saturday?

“Oh.” Spidey stilled. “I was afraid to face you. To face us.”

Deadpool knew the feeling. Wait, “us?” He chirped. “Spidey, there’s an ‘us’?” What about Wade? Wait, fuck it, he  _was_  Wade.

“Well, if you’re interested, let’s just see, okay?” Spider-man rambled, face heating up again. And damn, Deadpool could imagine that now.

Deadpool knew what Spider-man’s face looked like blushing. And  _begging_. And sleepy in the morning. Oh boy.

“Anything for you, baby boy! But I’m partial to a spring wedding, hint hint.”

[[Hey!  _Ixnay on arriage-ay_. Do you even listen to me?]]

[With a chocolate fountain, and doves....]

\----

Spider-man would not calm down, it turned out. He was almost literally bouncing off the walls of Deadpool’s safe house. Almost like he was keyed up, like that morning.

“Not that I’m not loving the energy, Webs, but are you gonna calm down anytime soon? Do you need sleepy-time tea?” Deadpool suggested, kind of loving it, despite himself. After all, he’d listened to Peter say ‘awesome’ and ‘life-changing’ at least 60 times, and he was fishing the Switch out of a forgotten box.

He really should have been expecting Spider-man’s response.

“Make me.” Peter said, absolutely serious.

Ah. Deadpool straightened up, looking over the boy in appreciation. All that energy, the blatant flirting. How aroused Peter had been that morning. How  _he_  had been the one to put a stop to anything happening. Was Peter still longing to be taken care of from that morning?

Spider-man shivered as Deadpool stalked over to him, not stopping until he was close enough to wrap his arms around him. Which Peter really hoped would happen. Heat and nerves and need crawled through him, as he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of being  _very turned on_  all day. 

He’d thought about a cold shower for hours. Every disgusting thing he could think of. He didn’t understand. It wasn’t like he was a teenager anymore. Yet, as Deadpool reached out to hold him by the waist, rationality kind of escaped Peter.

"Seems like someone's done you wrong, baby boy.” Deadpool intoned. “Am I right?”

Spider-man nodded his head. If he didn’t lie down soon, he was sure he was going to faint. His feelings for Deadpool seemed to blossom at the man’s steady hold. It just felt  _right_. And damn if he wasn’t hard again.

 “You're so wound up,” Deadpool said, a slight rumble to his voice that made Peter’s toes curl.

Spider-man’s breathing quickened as he nodded again, grasping Deadpool’s biceps. Thankfully missing the watch on Deadpool’s left wrist (Image Inducer!).

“Poor baby boy,” Deadpool continued, “left with no release."

Peter didn’t hesitate, but his voice was barely a whisper, as the pair of them had moved closer and closer as Deadpool spoke. “Then, release me.” 

What remained of Deadpool’s control and resolve snapped with an almost audible crack. With a low, guttural sound, he swept Spider-man into his arms and marched into his bedroom. There, he deposited the boy onto his bed.

Deadpool longed to ask him to take off his mask, but it couldn’t be like this. He had no qualms in ripping his own mask off and tossing it to the side though. Again Spider-man didn’t withdraw at his visage.

Peter did move the constricting fabric of his mask up atop his nose, backing up on the bed as he did.  _Well mark me down as scared and horny_....

“The suit,” Deadpool remarked. Placing his hands on Peter, sliding them down his sides before squeezing his hips. Drinking in the way Peter’s arousal strained against the spandex. “Take it off.” He knew Spidey responded to commands, now.

And wow, what a time to learn Peter went commando in the suit. Deadpool wanted to take, and take, to drown in Peter. But he  _couldn’t_. Not like this.

“Show me.” He said instead, once Peter was bare before him. Spider-suit peeled off and discarded on the floor. 

[ _Looks better there, anyway._ ]

“What do you mean?” Spidey asked. He really didn’t know, did he?

Deadpool was definitely no saint. “How you touch yourself, baby boy. Show me. Touch yourself.”

Peter let out a breathy, desperate sound. Without an answer, he tentatively placed a hand on his cock. Rubbing it as the head began to bead, under Deadpool’s strong gaze.

“That’s it, Spidey”  _Peter._ “Touch yourself. For me.”

That was enough. Peter moved his hand faster as Deadpool spoke, getting lost in his voice. Closing his eyes as sensation built in his gut and his hips lifted, longing to be filled.

“I want you to slow down, sweetheart.” The merc said, placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Look into my eyes. I want you to watch me as you  _fuck_  yourself.”

 _Oh, oh_. Peter’s mind wailed. He did, focusing on Deadpool’s eyes as the lust in them propelled him to agonizing levels of desire. Going slow wasn’t enough, his delayed orgasm burned. He wanted Deadpool. He wanted  _more_. Stroking himself harder as he kept his pace slow,

Deadpool looked into the eyes of the Spider-man mask, and he saw  _Peter_. Remembered what Peter looked like, desperate and beneath him. As the boy pumped himself, Deadpool almost couldn’t take it. “Now, Spidey,” He requested, voice a husk.

“ ’Pool,” Peter moaned, and then “Oh god!” As he gasped and vocalized his orgasm.

Deadpool surged forward, silencing Peter with a kiss. Peter whimpered into it, until he was spent.

As Deadpool wiped Peter down, he hated himself. When he lifted the boy and tucked him in, he felt disgusted. But when he wrapped himself around Peter, kissing the side of his mask and whispering endearments into the back of his neck, he felt like he’d found the definition of home.

* * *

 

In the morning, Deadpool planned to tell Spider-man everything. There was really no good time to tell him, he lamented as he made sausage links. The Image Inducer was on, turned on this time, and he was in full suit sans mask, and he didn’t know what would happen. Not until he heard the dismayed gasp from the hallway, which signaled his doom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen I am so sorry. This chapter has been such a roller-coaster, but we knew this couldn't go on forever....  
> Peter definitely puts Deadpool through the wringer next chapter.  
> But don't worry, 8 is full of all the fluff'n'smut.  
> Deadpool is definitely an idiot, but all he knows is that Peter wants him and he wants Peter, and I pulled as many punches as I could because while Deadpool might not think rationally all the time, there's no way he would do anything worse than what I wrote. Um. Idk don't hate me. (Also Peter shame on you for going to Deadpool after Wade rejects you get it tf together this is not what Meg meant when she said to open up.)
> 
> \- Apartment 23B is a direct tribute to Krysten Ritter (Jessica Jones) in "Don't Trust The B---- in Apartment 23"  
> \- Idk I guess I read that Deadpool was called "Little Bitchy Bitch" overseas and I can't.  
> \- I just love tuna melts. There's no other reason for that choice.  
> \- My friend helpfully suggested the Aunt Jemima response. After watching the clip I thought, yeah, Deadpool would.  
> \- Mika's Grace Kelly  
> \- Beautiful Trauma music video is the best. I love Bowie, I had to slip the Tom Holland reference in (my spidey is not Holland however).  
> \- Peter totally would "download a pizza" but I apparently can't write Peter illegally downloading anything. Shocker.  
> \- "I don't wanna do the work today" from Firebringer is a bop but I can't handle being responsible for Peter learning that.  
> \- Disney merger joke reference because obvious Deadpool Disney merger reference.  
> \- Johnny Storm picture is not made obviously Johnny Storm. Whoops.  
> \- Peter hide your shit better omfg  
> \- Peter's super capable of being smart and making discoveries and digging himself out of debt it just takes a while. But it's important to me to give him his own way out.  
> \- Peter is also most likely gonna kill Deadpool.
> 
> (So I wanted to point out another thing that may be noticeable in this fic. While never wanting sexual relations for a period after sexual assault is certainly one reaction, the reaction I didn't know was mine was to try and sleep with everyone to reclaim my body and erase the memories. Idk. I'm not saying that's healthy, but Peter might be dealing with a hint of this)


	7. 'Cause You Could Never Love Me Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many misunderstandings ensue. Deadpool wallows in depression, before going on a search for Peter. Meanwhile, Peter needs time, and then gets some amazing news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone order angst? No? Next chapter will definitely make up for this.  
> This chapter does have some dark Wade moments. It's also the second shortest chapter of all 8 because it hurt. Skip to the last bit if you'd rather just read Peter's good news.
> 
> Last we left Wade, he was making sausages for breakfast with his Image Inducer on, facade of his pretty face shown for Spider-man to see.

Luckily Peter had put his suit back on, or else Deadpool might have broken. To see Spider-man still vulnerable and undressed, or to see devastation on Peter’s face. It would be too much.

“Wade?” Peter asked in disbelief. Denial. “What are- what are you doing here?”

Ah. That tone killed him, too. Wade took every moment he could to stall, hoarding the agonizing seconds like precious gold as he flipped a sausage in the pan. He wanted to have just one moment, where he could pretend everything was fixed. That Spider-man would come sit at the table, take off his mask, and Peter would eat the breakfast Wade had cooked. While they talked about On The Spot or Buzzfeed Unsolved or some shit. 

Wade ached for that normalcy, for each second. Before he faced Spider-man head on. When he did turn around, it hurt. It hurt so much to see Spider-man, masked and ready to run at the edge of the room. His heart clenched and he was only thankful he at least couldn’t see the pain in the boy’s eyes. Could Peter see the pain in Wade’s?

“Peter,” He begged. And that was it. The catalyst. Because Peter was a ticking time bomb the second he saw  _Wade’s_  blond hair in  _Deadpool’s_  apartment. As if anything else needed to happen to set the boy off, Deadpool flicked the dial on his watch (Image Inducer...) and the illusion crackled, folding away. Revealing the scars which made up his unevenskin. His bald head, the gunmetal of his eyes. Leaving Deadpool exposed.

 _Fuck, fuck_! Peter’s mind swam. He could do nothing but stare at the man he had been growing to  _lo_ \- the man who had rejected his advances, had listened to him talk about school and work. The man Peter had asked for advice (advice to deal with Peter’s feelings for  _him_!). The man who had held him and worked him under expert hands-

His face. Wade never let him touch his face, or his skin.

Wade didn’t want Peter like that. But last night Deadpool had wanted Spider-man, which meant he  _had_  wanted Peter? Because he knew...  _he fucking_   _knew_. And that searing kiss. Was any of it real or was this all some cruel  _game_? Because that’s what hurt Peter more than anything. It was getting made fun of for middleschool crushes and getting asked out as a joke in highschool all over again.

There was absolutely no way this could be happening. Wade was in Deadpool’s  _kitchen_. Dressed in that red and black suit Peter knew too well. Wade  _was_  Deadpool. It was a full-on slap in the face. It sucked so much. How was he so stupid as to not figure it out?

Not only did Deadpool  _know who he was_ , but he had been spending time with Peter for two weeks. Had he  _known_  for all that time-  _?_

“You lied to me,” Spider-man accused. He tried to make sure his voice conveyed that he was very, very angry, but he couldn’t hold in the way his voice cracked. Because he very much wanted to cry. He was also spiraling into a panic attack  _fast_.

Deapool certainly looked the part of culprit, shrunk in on himself due to his immeasurable guilt. Peter was so upset! But. He hadn’t lied! Or well, he was planning to reveal the truth! He was still just as new to Spidey being Peter. Honest. Not that he didn’t hate himself for last night. Not that this didn’t sting like a fothermuck.“I didn’t, I swear. Peter...”

But hearing his name on Deadpool’s lips was still too much for Spider-man. “I’m sorry,” He said, coldly (and not sorry at all), “I’m not fluent in ‘liar’.” But he still couldn’t hold his anger. “Why?” He asked, shaking. Breathing accelerating as he teetered on the edge of falling apart. “Why did you do any of it?”

[We didn’t!]

[[We did.]]

Why couldn’t Peter ask “ _how long have you known_ ”? The answer to that was still bad, considering what happened last night, but it was better than whatever else was fueling Peter’s sense of betrayal.

But Peter did feel betrayed. Peter  _got_  to feel betrayed. What had Wade been doing with him as Peter? Making fun of him behind his back? It wasn’t fucking funny. Using him? Playing with his feelings? Was Deadpool toying with him as both Spider-man and Peter only to laugh about it later? Was it all-

The job.

“Deadpool.” Peter said. His voice was ice, and his low tone sang through Wade’s bones. It might have been a turn on, under different circumstances. “Did you take my notes from ARC?”

That’s not what Wade wanted him to say. At all. They were having one misunderstanding, they didn’t need another! Wade wanted to lie, to say no, but he had to tell the truth. Couldn’t Peter understand why he had to do it? Wade was trying, but tears still fell from his eyes. “Yes.” He admitted. Feeling miserable, hopeless.

It may as well have been the gallows, or the executioner’s swing. It felt final.

For Peter, it was. “I  _see_.”

Peter wanted to scream, he wanted to beat his fists against Deadpool’s chest until he was too exhausted to move. He wanted Wade to hold him, to hear the whole story. He wanted to be comforted, but he needed to kick and shout and wail and cry first. Did Deadpool ever even have genuine feelings for him as Spider-man, either? Was all the flirting over the months really all a sick joke, too?  _He couldn’t do this_.

Deadpool had been too afraid to approach the boy, since he first appeared in the doorway. So even though Peter looked like he needed a safe space and a breathing buddy, Deadpool couldn’t provide that and fell on his ass on the floor, sausages burning on the stove. As he cried. “ _Peter_ ,” His voice fucking broke. “Please, please, Spidey.”

“ ** _Stop saying my name!_** ” Spider-man exploded. He really began hyperventilating then. The room was closing in on him, he had to get  _out_.

Deadpool continued to sob out his name as sexy, pissed-off Spider-man gracelessly crashed through the window and swung away.

* * *

 

Peter never went home.

Deadpool knew, because he camped out at the web-slinger’s place, hoping he would return. So everything could be explained. So he could fix things. So he could try for the rest of his life to make it up to Peter.

He waited for three  _days_.

Pacing Peter’s apartment, fixing the heater, washing the dishes that were dirty in the sink. Taking the garbage out, taking the laundry basket in Peter’s bedroom downstairs to the washing machines. His heart breaking anew when he saw  _his_  sweater in with the other clothes he’d bought the boy. Cleaning up the place likely wouldn’t help in getting Peter to forgive him, but Wade felt fucking  _useless_.

He only took a few hours here and there to bus home and smash his head into a wall. Set himself on fire, drink poison, try skewering himself with a katana. Just to shut up the voices in his head, reminding him how much he’d screwed up. How much he hated himself. But every time he came back, the voices in his head seethed   
_FuckupMonsterDieHeartlessWretchUglyWasteBetteraloneKillyourself_

_[He didn’t run from your fucked up face]_

_[[When he ran, it was because of you for you.]]_  
  
The pain of his skin amplified with his emotional hurt as well, which was an added misery. His scars were irritated raw from his tears. He wanted to give up.

Wade was nothing if not stubborn, though. Notorious for pushing every button and limit known. Peter had to at least hear him out, right? If he could see Peter at least one more time, that was all Wade wanted. Shit, if he  _never got to see Spidey again...._  

Drywall fell down where Wade punched the wall, cursing. Then he grabbed the sides of his head, because now he’d fucked up Peter’s wall, and....

He couldn’t even call Peter, because the boy had left his phone on the nightstand. 

Deadpool went out every night searching for a hint of red and blue spandex in the city, but he couldn’t catch up to the spider. He couldn’t even say he felt like he was in hell, because hell was canonically nicer than this.

\----

On Saturday afternoon, face down on the worst couch in history, Deadpool hit his limit. Luckily it just so happened that his limit coincided with a knock on the door.

Outside stood Gavin, whose life had totally spiraled since his pizza delivery gig. “ _Delivery for 23B_ ” He announced, just wanting to get the day over and done with so he could play video games and hit Tinder.

 _What?_ Wade forced himself up, sore just about everywhere. How did Peter survive with the constant pain of that?  _Oh right, poorly_.

He swung open the door. “Hellloooo, you’ve found Tony's Sex Doll Factory, how can I help you?" Deadpool asked, darkening the hallway with his intimidating figure.

Anyone sane seeing Deadpool glare them down would piss themselves. Gavin, Gavin had been on the other side of the merc’s pistol before. He whimpered. “Uh, there’s a. Delivery truck. Couch, mattress. Please sign.” He forced out.

Deadpool cocked his head, thinking the guy looked familiar, but not remembering. Or caring.

[Did we kill him before...?]

[[We could kill him now.]]

Deadpool was just too numb. “Oh. Yeah,” He replied, glumly. “I’ll take care of it.”

 _Oh thank god_ , Gavin thought, hightailing it the hell out of there to sit in his work truck. Making it his life-goal to not make eye-contact with the black and red murderer ever again.

Ah, right. The furniture. The things Wade had bought for Peter, so his apartment wouldn’t be so sad. Now he had to wonder if Peter would ever step foot in his own apartment again. Because of  _him_.

What about the boy’s lab? Was he still going to work? Peter had classes picking up in a few days. Would he go? Was he going back to making money the hard way after Wade had barely gotten him out of that life? Deadpool continued spiraling as he stomped out to the street.

Outside in the large truck was a Fabio cinema sofa, an upside-down walnut table. Stuffed in at an angle, was a Kluft mattress. Deadpool defied physics and apartment door dimensions to get them inside and set up. On autopilot. He then quite literally destroyed and threw Peter’s old furniture out the living room window.

To stand in that quiet space, not able to hear Peter complain about the gifts. Not hear him laugh and make a joke about it being too much, that the floor couldn’t hold under the furniture’s weight, or. To not be able to hear Peter say anything at all. It made Wade sick.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Spider-man had been active over the past two days. Fighting crime was the only thing that kept him from holing up in Meg’s bathroom, never to emerge again. Meg didn’t deserve that, to not be able to use her shower.

He’d shown up on her doorstep wearing clothes he’d snuck from F.E.A.S.T, still shaking with panic on Wednesday. He had nothing but the ratty V-neck and sweatpants he’d taken to wear in the snow, and a re-usable grocery bag holding his costume. As soon as she saw him, Meg had ushered him inside and let him crash with words of concern and threats to whomever had hurt him. Very  _colorful_  threats. Then Meg explained to Horizon that Peter was sick, and let him cry to her about the former sugar daddy he wouldn’t name. He never explicitly said what had happened, but Meg was ready to cut a bitch.

Meanwhile Peter slipped the suit on and snuck out each night, feeling horrible. Horrible because he was imposing on his friend, and horrible because he missed Deadpool all the same.  
  
He missed grabbing food with Wade, and his cooking, and his jokes, and his good advice, and his concern, and his arm around his shoulder, and his  _stupid fucking sweater-_ but Peter couldn’t face him.

So when he got back Saturday night, he stalled just outside the window. Catching that Meg was on the phone deeper inside the apartment.

“Who are you?” Meg paused. “Uh-huh. Why do you have Peter’s phone?” There was silence as someone said something on the other end.  _Aww, my phone, nooo,_ Peter lamented _._ Knowing just who had it, based on where he had figured he’d left it..

“Oh, well thank you for trying to find him to return it. I’m sorry, I haven’t seen Peter lately, but I’ll let him know you have it when I do.” Meg finished, an edge to her voice.

Peter’s heart warmed just a little, even as it clenched. Meg was really lying to protect him.

* * *

 

Wade swore. Throwing Peter’s phone onto the new mattress in frustration.  _Stupid_ , unhelpful  _Discount Mary Jane Watson_. 

Dressing into civvies, jeans and red t-shirt with a black hoodie, Deadpool stalked out. He had  _names_  and  _places_  to cross off his list. The little spider could only hide and run so long. Now it was a  _chase_.

“Ollie ollie, oxen-free!” Deadpool sang out menacingly into the winter air.

Pieces was unassuming, and not too crowded for a Saturday night. Intel told him it was Peter’s most visited haunt, though. Deadpool stormed in through the door, leaving it swinging violently behind him. The bar was mostly empty. Only a few patrons, and the attractive bartender Joshua. The noting of which just irritated Deadpool more.

Deadpool staggered to the bar and collapsed onto a stool, leaning heavily on the counter. “ ’Yo,” He drawled, “What’s a guy got to do for a fuck around here?” Objectively, not his smoothest line. He was going through a lot, it was understandable that he’d lose the ability to come up with cleverer lines. Give him a break.

Josh looked the newcomer over in appropriate distaste. Barely hiding his disgust at the man’s shadowed face and tone. This was not the kind of man Josh would ever send to his friend Peter. Though he hadn’t seen the boy for a week. He wanted to kindly tell the man to leave the bar, but on closer inspection it seemed like the man hadn’t seen a bed in a week. And like he had seen the worst of his nightmares come true.

Which was not far off the mark.

“What can I get for you?” Josh asked, leaning on his arms while staring down the man. Trying to let him know that he was not afraid. Letting the guy know through body language that if he stepped out of line, Josh would fry his ass. He might have wings, but he was no angel.

Deadpool would very much like 7 AMF’s and a bottle of Spirytus Rektyfikowany. However, he smiled. A predatory smile, all eye teeth to match Josh’s usual grin. It was downright feral. “I’m looking for my boyfriend, have you seen him?” He purred. Adding, “I’ll take a long island, por favor.”

Josh scoffed, feeling sorry for whomever was stuck with that ugly mug as their boyfriend. He started mixing the drink, though. Sure that the dude’s target had run away and thinking he could spare the guy by stalling this man from his search.

“What’s he look like?” Josh asked, topping the drink off with a splash of cola and a lemon wedge.

Deadpool sighed, in defeat. Face softening as he thought of Peter. Peter’s soft golden eyes. Peter’s flawless, toned skin. Peter’s fluffy hair and adorable grin. Adoration shone through his voice as he breathed out, “Beautiful.”

Josh let out a startled laugh despite himself. Almost relenting on his judgement after seeing the look on the merc’s admittedly gross face. Almost. “Does Beauty have a name?” He questioned, sliding the iced tea over.

“Peter.” Deadpool said, sounding pained. It hurt so much to say his name.

Joshua’s eyes widened considerably, but he caught himself. Coldly answering, “I haven’t seen him in a week. Didn’t know he had a boyfriend, either.”

\----

Deadpool walked up to the bar inside Hellhouse, and lay his head down on the counter without preamble. He hadn’t even gotten to finish his drink at Pieces before being thrown out by the bartender who turned out to be  _X-affiliated_.

“What’s your problem now, mind-fucked avocado?” Weasel asked shortly. Setting down a bottle of vodka in front of Wade before he could ask for anything. Aware that a Wade sans Deadpool digs =‘d apocalypse levels of Not Good.

“Peter hates me.” Wade relented into the wood.

Weasel screamed internally. “Most people hate you, look at you.” He said flatly. He really was done hearing the name ‘Peter’. That fact would definitely come up if he ever went to their wedding. “You mean that kid from that job?” He groaned. “Again?”

“He’s my soulmate.” Deadpool cried. He sounded more serious than when he’d said fajitas and Cable and Willam’s Beatdown were his soulmates. He also looked worse than usual. Devastated, really.

Weasel let out an aggravated sigh. “Do you need help getting him out?”  _Out of trouble, out of sex work, out of your mind._  

“No,” Deadpool hic’d. “Unrelated. Can you put out a 10-57 on Spider-man?” And then Wade was downing the bottle Weasel had provided like his life depended on it. The switch of subject was irresponsible, but Weasel had heard both names so often it didn’t even register as weird.

Weasel rolled his eyes, as he often did around Wade. “Okay, dickbrain. I can contact Black Cat for you but it’s gonna cost you.”

\----

Felicia was in Harlem, smug after her recent heist. Not many people had her number, so when her phone rang, she was surprised.

“‘Ello? Kinda busy.” She drawled.

The man on the other end gave a dark chuckle. “Sure you are, kitty. I’ll double whatever score you’re working on if you do something for me.”

More bored than interested, Felicia took the bait. After all, that would be a lot of money if he was serious. She was going after a famous painting, after all. “What’s the job?”

“Find Spider-man.” The man announced, gleefully.

Felicia Hardy just laughed and laughed, and then she hung up.

\----

It was probably a good thing Deadpool decided to call it quits after that, before he started prowling Hell’s Kitchen for the other man in a red costume.

* * *

 

On Monday morning, Peter did go into work. Dr. Modell himself had called and insisted, and Meg had merrily shoved him out the door (in Sue’s white button up and Meg’s old jeans and one of her spare lab coats). To be fair, Peter kind of knew he would have to return home eventually. He had classes starting up the next day, and he’d imposed on Meg for five whole days already. Aunt May would’ve talked his ear off about manners for that.

Plus, while Peter Parker could be sad and angry and lonely and want to avoid all his problems until they went away.... He couldn’t stop thinking about how everything went wrong. How he didn’t think he had to be alone. How Deadpool probably was.

What Peter was not expecting, once through the doors of Horizon, was to have a glass of champagne thrust into his hands. Directly followed by him being shuffled to the board room, decorated with balloons and streamers. Did he forget his own birthday?

“Peter!” the large hand of Mr. Modell clapped the boy on the back, causing him to startle and spill some champagne. “Congratulations!”

Peter spluttered, taking in the banner that also said “Congratulations.” and then the paperwork on the long table, ready to sign. “S-sir?” He finally remembered to  _use his words_.

“Thanks to you, and the Parker Particles, we’ve found the key to clean, affordable, near limitless power!”

“p-Parker Particles?”  _Or maybe not_.

Mr. Modell nudged him with a wink. “Name was Meg’s idea. After all, you figured out how to make it work!”

\----

As paperwork was signed, and champagne flowed, a much sadder event was taking place outside. Deadpool had managed to drag himself to the Lab, collapsing onto the steps in a drunken heap. Clutching the bottle that kept him under, head cloudy. Nauseous, too hot. Too cold.

He couldn’t go in, of course. Not like that. He didn't even know what was going on inside. He just had to.. be near to where Peter _might_ be.. For just a minute.

“Hey, dude, you can’t stay there. Can I call you a cab.”

“ _Peter._...” Deadpool moaned.

* * *

 

When all was said and done, Peter collected his ‘borrowed’ clothes and grocery bag from Meg, and headed for his subway line home for the first time in days. The celebration had run long, and the sky was darkening as he walked. In the morning he had to get up for Eukaryotic Molecular Biology, and he was tired.  
  
Peter wasn’t sure of anything, slightly tipsy and giddy off the money he’d earn from his new patent. There was nobody he wanted to share that with more than Wade. He just wasn’t ready to face the man yet, at least not without his mask. The irony that their masks had been the cause of much of this didn’t escape him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My ADHD ass is most definitely the worst at misunderstandings and also 100% oblivious I would definitely get in a situation like this. Luckily next chapter matches this chapter's angst with fluff and smut! So far I've put every chapter up every two days, for two weeks, which is ridiculous.
> 
> \- Both Buzzfeed Unsolved and On The Spot are back and I am so happy.  
> \- I was 100% asked out as a joke in HS (we did date later but like, ish still hurts)  
> \- Gavin in the comics turned into Jeremy in the Deadpool movie. He was still a pizza delivery guy.  
> \- Has anyone else had to google "most expensive _____" before? True Deadpool is generally also poor, but to help Peter out, he got more money somehow not mentioned in this fic.  
> \- I still love discount Mary Jane. Sorry not sorry.  
> \- Deadpool's red sweater is definitely its own character  
> \- Clint reference "aww X no" is always relatable.  
> \- Returning: Joshua Guthrie, aka Icarus, aka best bartender (next to Weasel).  
> \- Ah yes. The plot that didn't matter. Peter created the Parker Particles over the last few chapters. Those aren't really good things? But hey. That's a problem for another time. Also this wouldn't really rocket Peter out of debt in real life, but hey.


	8. I Taste You On My Lips And I Can't Get Rid Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The resolution we all waited for! And I was gonna write a sex scene, but then I thought better of it.  
> (I wrote a sex montage instead)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! Two weeks after certain events led me from "I'll never get the characters right I'll never write Spideypool" to "and now I've written 35k of it and I'm exhausted."  
> Thank you so much for reading my story, everyone! Seriously, the response I've gotten to this fic really fueled me to finish it. I might write more stories in the future because of it. I can't thank you guys enough!
> 
> If it needs to be said, there's sex in this chapter. Just avoid like, the all of it if you're not up for smut.

Spider-man pried open his bedroom window, noting the rather large bed squeezed inside. Taking in the soft blue sheets which were regrettably stained in dried blood.. and Deadpool. Lying down, but breathing. Puffy, scarred cheeks and red suit and all. Peter’s heart ached, suspecting Wade had done something unfathomable, as the man stirred with a grunt.

Then Deadpool was up immediately, gun out and pointed at Spider-man.

“Shit!” He yelped, tossing the gun away safely onto the mattress, causing him to look down as it landed. Noticing the sheets. “...I ruined your new bed.” He whimpered. Sitting hard on the once luxurious bamboo sheets. Too tired to even  _think ‘_ and not in the fun way’ as he dropped his head into his hands. _. too tired to figure out if he was hallucinating or not._

All of this was absurd. Peter was so done. “Then buy me a new one, asshole.” Spider-man relented. He was cold, he was emotionally exhausted, and he wanted everything to go away.

Deadpool didn’t dare to hope as he barely lifted his head, eyes red and questioning. Even if the boy was an illusion, he wanted to pretend this was real.

Peter looked away from those eyes he loved so much. “I’m not ready to forgive you,” He admitted, “but I’m sorry, too.” Because Deadpool reeked of alcohol and looked like he’d been through the wringer and damnit Peter still cared for him so much.

And Deadpool simply let the warmth of seeing Peter at least one more time fill him. Whispering, “I miss you.”

Tentatively, Deadpool reached out to Spider-man at the same time the boy gravitated forward, and then he was in the merc’s lap. And Peter was  _real_.   
It was a quiet, tender moment as they just held each other. Neither willing to break their shaky truce. Or question the reality that the other was there.

\----

Eventually, Peter was the one to break the silence. “Can we not talk about it until tomorrow?” He hesitated. Deadpool nodded mutely into Peter’s shoulder. He didn’t want to put an end to this peace.

“Anything,” Wade breathed.  _Anything you want_.

And Peter had one more thing to ask, his voice thick with emotion and words unspoken. “Can I see you?” He murmured.

Wade stilled. He wasn’t wearing any masks anymore. Unless Spidey meant, that Peter meant. The boy began carefully pulling away before he could respond, and Deadpool had to bite down on his cheek to resist pulling him back into his chest.

As he faced the mask of Spider-man, Peter gently took Wade’s hands and placed them at the edge of the fabric covering his face.

Did it really matter, that he chose to unmask himself, when Wade already knew? To Deadpool, it very much did. With shaking fingers, he removed Spider-man's mask. Until he could see Peter, breathtaking Peter, bathed in the moonlight.

Peter’s heart was beating hard, full of nerves. Then Peter bit his lip and looked away, unable to face the visceral fondness in Wade’s haunting blue eyes.

Looking down. To where his scattered photos and his old camera were in a stack on the floor.  
....

“Did you break into my lockbox?” He complained, though there was no heat behind his words.

Deadpool squeaked. “It was unlocked?”

“It was  _not.”_

* * *

 

 

 

Peter didn’t want to talk at 6 in the morning. He wanted to drink his coffee silently, and be on his way to his unfortunate 8am class. Which was mostly tolerable because the professor was his favorite.

Also unfortunately, his coffee had been made by the merc known as Wade. Who was sitting across from Peter, staring at him and fidgeting with his hands. Peter sighed. Maybe it was better to get it out.

“I’m sorry for everything,” Wade started. It was an awful platitude, but he was. “I didn’t find out you were Spidey until Tuesday. I swear on the only thing I truly hold precious.”

“Your katanas.” Peter stated dryly.

Wade stopped fidgeting and spluttered. “What? No! You.”

Peter was sure that wasn’t true. And it not being true hurt. If Wade was still trying to con him... but Peter had realized he never felt deception through his spidey-senses with Wade. Or Deadpool. Not when it came to his concern or care. And not now.

“Me?” Peter said under his breath, before continuing at normal volume. “You weren’t just using me?”

Wade’s face fell considerably. “No, Peter. How could you even say that?” Although he knew why, so he rushed out the next part of his apology. “I took the job, sure, but helping you and spending time with you - that was real. Before everything blew up, I withdrew because I didn’t want to hurt you,” Peter gave him a wry, forced smile. “though I fucked that up... then I had to turn in the ARC papers because I really couldn’t let Spidey - you - get hunted down. And I was gonna tell you I found out that night, but then you were so happy, and I-”

[Resume: great at unaliving, terrible at apologizing.]

“Wade,” Peter said, taking one of the man’s larger hands in his own across the table. “ _That_. What happened next. Yeah I’m upset about that, but I don’t hate you for it. I was hurt because I felt like you played the world’s worst joke on me.”

[[Ah.]]

Then Peter quieted, retracting his hand. “I thought you didn’t want..”  _me_.

“What? Not want Peter, or not want Spider-man?" Wade said seriously. "I’ve learned to be a very greedy man, baby boy. I’ve wanted both. I want both. I want  _you_. I want to spend the rest of my life making everything up to you." Peter kept looking down at his coffee, not sure how to handle Wade's confession. Wade quieted, adding "I’m so sorry for letting you down.”

_I’m so sorry for being messed up._

Peter sighed. Taking a look at the time, and knowing he had to get going. “We can talk about us when I get home, okay?” He allowed, standing up to grab his bag. It might have been a slip-up, for all he knew.

Wade perked up a bit at Peter referring to them as an ‘us’ again, as he had said as Spidey that last night.

“Feel free to stick around while I’m gone, since you’d probably just break in again anyway.” Peter tacked on.

[We wouldn’t, scout’s honor!]

[[He knows us so well.]]

Through all their misunderstandings, they had wasted enough time. What was one more day?

* * *

 

 

In the end, it had only taken a few days for the two to metaphorically (and literally) kiss and make up. After-all, they had spent much longer time together as Spider-man and Deadpool than as Peter and Wade in the last two weeks where everything got so messed up. What was two weeks to going on two years of falling in love?

Besides, Peter’s apartment was seriously shitty and Wade needed to get Peter out of it.

“Please, Peter.” He’d cooed and cajoled to no end.

Peter was tempted, but adamant that he needed his own space. Which gave Wade the perfect idea.

On the fifth day of begging, Wade had filled Peter’s apartment with white, yellow, and dark pink roses. It was honestly garish. There was also a five-course meal spread out across every available surface, because while Wade had bought Peter a new table, it still wasn’t that large.

Wade was even wearing a three-piece  _suit_.

Peter got home, slammed the door shut, and walked back down the hallway before he could face all that.

When he returned, Wade was sitting at the table with his face planted into the wood, hands on the back of his neck. Talking lowly to himself.

“Okay. What’s the pitch this time,” Peter sighed.

Wade’s idea was actually... thoughtful and perfect for Peter. Until he started crooning, “ _Live in my house, I'll be your shelter, just pay me back with one thousand kisses_ ”

And if Peter clamped a hand over Wade’s mouth more to stop himself from joining in than to actually stop Wade from singing, nobody needed to know.

“Alright.” He gave in, not moving his hand. “As long as you don’t break into any of my stuff again. And I’m going to the store so you can  _clean this mess up_.”

[ _Yessir_ ] 

Wade was beaming as Peter withdrew, watching that boy’s fine ass as Peter walked to the door. This was the best news. He was going to get to live with Spidey Parker! And they'd have movie nights and play games and share meals and share groceries, speaking of,

“Bring me back a box of Taquitos!” Wade called.

Peter stalled in the doorway, leaning on the door. He was really making this decision. Well, he figured he’d give in eventually. It had made Wade happy, and for as much as that entailed, Wade was better happy. It was then that Peter got an awful idea.

Peter turned to look over his shoulder and looked Wade over, shrugging at his request. “Anything you want, Daddy.” He smirked.

And as the door swung shut behind him he cackled.

“ _WAIT DID YOU JUST- GET BACK HERE!_ ”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Spider-man was still as connected to NYC as JK Rowling was to ruining everything on Twitter. He patrolled regularly, swinging over the dirty streets. Fighting increasingly ridiculous villains. Sometimes posing for photos with fans, and listening to Jameson’s Just The Facts for a laugh. Not many people paid attention to Spider-man on the daily, but the few people he helped commented that he seemed happier.

Meanwhile Deadpool wasn’t seen as much. News stories across the world led some to wonder if he was fighting drug rings and sex trafficking internationally. When he was in the city, he was always by Spider-man’s side. Less people were hesitant to approach the duo, sometimes slipping a picture to Deadpool for an autograph.

Six weeks flew by, and the new year started. On the whole, not much changed for NYC. There was a new discreet facility that popped up, helping people who wanted out of sex work and providing std screenings and treatment. Its name, Hellhouse 2, was merely a curious feature. Pieces picked up in popularity after an anonymous client claimed he’d seen Spider-man there one night. Maybe he’d been drunk, but it was enough for LGBT fans to latch onto.

New things were in the works for Horizon, especially since the ARC lab was shut down after its experiments ‘came to light’. The Parker Particles were opening doors for clean energy, and Peter Parker was rumored to be considering starting his own company in the future. After finishing college, of course.

\----

Spider-man was up on his favorite building one quiet night. The one with the view of the Williamsburg Bridge. He was leaning against the access door, taking a peaceful breather with his mask half-up. The weather had been a little warmer for a few days, even though another snowstorm was projected in a few days.

All of a sudden, strong arms were caging him in. Hard chest pushing him back. And yup, that was definitely not a gun pressed against his thigh. Probably. It was always a toss-up with-

“Deadpool!” Peter gasped. “Come on, I’m working.”

“Yeah you’re certainly  _working it._ ” Deadpool purred, raking his eyes over the boy’s body. “Honey, that ass don’t quit.”

Peter squirmed. Getting a hard-on in spandex was certainly a sensation. Which his boyfriend knew, as a hand trailed down to grip him through the fabric.

Ngh. “Wade, this isn’t  _fair_.” He moaned, doing nothing to move as his cock twitched.

Deadpool hummed. “Payback’s a bitch, Petey.” He sing-songed, leaning in to kiss Peter’s sweet mouth, sucking at that wonderful bottom lip. Peter gripped his biceps, inviting the swipe of Wade’s tongue. And then Wade was kissing along his chin, finding a soft spot on his exposed neck to bite.

_Oh. That._

_\----_

Peter had moved into Wade’s a week after ‘The Incident'. Since his own bed was ruined anyway. They had just waited so Wade could clean out his Death room and make it into a study / safe room for Peter. Where he could tinker on Spidey and work stuff, study for classes, and collapse on the small twin bed there for when he needed space.

Peter had hated what the room had been. All that it entailed. He didn’t try to fix Deadpool though, he just tried to ease the man’s demons. And Deadpool loved him for it, helping Peter with his anxiety in return. The fixed-up room was everything Wade had hoped for it, anyway.

A few days into renovations and moving boxes, their replacement bed had arrived. To no one’s surprise but his own, the delivery guy was the same Gavin as before. Peter had opened the door, but the poor guy saw Wade in the background stitching up the Deadpool suit, and he fainted dead away.

“What?!” Peter said, incredulously. Causing Wade to look up at what had happened. 

His memory had been working better recently, which prompted him to go, “Huh. It’s my pizza guy!” And then he started laughing.

* * *

 

 

They had christened the bed a few nights later. It was Wade who gave in, after Peter assured him over and over that he wanted to be with him. The increasingly terrible pick-up lines Peter looked up to use didn’t hurt, either. And then that day Wade had come home to Peter wearing his Deadpool boxers and Wade’s sweater, hitched up to expose his stomach while he lay on their bed.

_“Peter, are you sure you’re sure? Serious as the GOT finale?”  
_

_“Isn’t it ‘serious as a heart attack’“  
_

_“Nah I’ve been waiting for season 8 for two years. That’s way more serious.”  
_

_“Ugh. Yes I’m sure. Would you stick your dick in me already?”  
_

_[!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]_

Wade hadn’t just stuck his dick in Peter, as great as that sounded. He took his time, even with undressing himself. Immeasurably grateful for the way Peter lay a hand on his marred skin in a caress.   
Then Wade was kissing Peter dizzy, slow and needy. Breathing in his kiss, drunk off that small taste of him. Peter’s sweater had to go, Wade decided, and he made sure to take extra time to trace his hands down the boy’s sides. Followed by his lips, placing covetous kisses over Peter’s chest. Teasing a nipple with his tongue as it hardened and Peter wriggled, before continuing south. Nipping with his teeth on one side of the boy’s sensitive waist while he curled his fingers into the other.  
  
Peter marveled at the attention Wade showed to every inch of him, growing heady with arousal. All Wade's ministration's made him antsy. His skin responding to every small touch as his already heightened senses grew more responsive. Needing to be closer, to fit together with Wade. Craving relief from the aching.

“Ah!” Peter cried out. Wade had clamped down on a spot near his hip-bone, sucking and lapping at the tender skin. “ _Wade!_ ”

A wave of heat surged through Wade to his groin at the way Peter said his name. He let out a guttural sound, more animal than human. Using care to lift Peter’s boxers and pull them off. Peter’s cock was beautiful, erect against the boy's stomach. Wade thumbed along Peter’s thigh, his warm breath ghosting over the member as he lowered his mouth down on it, taking Peter to the hilt. Delighting as Peter thrusted in before he could control himself. Wade sucked him like that, savoring the taste of Peter’s pre-cum. But not for too long, just long enough to leave Peter breathing hard and begging. Peter’s head thrown back and hands fisted in the sheets. Fuck, he was an angel from all angles.  
  
Then Wade caressed across Peter’s inner thigh. Lowering his head and applying pressure and licking a stripe down his perineum, before darting his tongue across Peter’s opening. It clenched in response, but Wade patiently kept up his attention.

Peter was gripping Wade's shoulder with one hand in an instant. Pretty sure he was already gonna lose it. His other hand he used to muffle his moans.

Wade held Peter with a hand on his side, and the other on his thigh. Holding him steady and adding comfort. Making circles with his tongue, side-and-side swipes across Peter's hole, until Peter was slowly coaxed open for him. Until he could dart his tongue inside, making Peter wet.

He noticed that Peter was stifling those  _sensual_  gasps and whines of his pleasure, and that simply wouldn’t do. Wade halted long enough to reach up and yank Peter’s hand away from his mouth, and Peter keened harder at the absence of Wade's tongue in him.

“I wanna hear you, baby boy.” Wade told him kindly, holding Peter’s slim wrist in his large hand. And then he pulled himself up, draping himself over Peter and holding the younger man's face into his shoulder.

Peter gripped onto Wade, rocking his hips up seeking purchase. He was ready, so ready. Wade couldn’t be close enough until he was  _inside_  him.

Wade smiled, using the change of position to reach over and fumble for the lube. It just felt so right to cradle Peter beneath him, he still couldn’t believe he got to. It wasn’t time to wonder, though. Not when his love was splayed there, craving him. Wade was hard as rock, cock slick with pre-cum in anticipation.

He pressed one wet finger into Peter, and then another. Hooking them and teasing him as he rubbed the delicate flesh inside. “Come on, open for me baby. Are you okay?” Wade cooed.

Peter more or less said “Uh huh.” and when Wade felt he was ready, he withdrew his fingers. Centering his cock and positioning himself at Peter’s opening to start the slow and steady process of filling Peter up.

When Peter was stretched, Wade inside him, he let out a slight gurgle. His vision hazed for a second, and then just being filled by Wade wasn’t enough. Peter rolled his hips, and that small motion sent Wade into a frenzy of _want_. Lifting Peter’s hips just a little to help support him and improve the angle.

"You're so beautiful, baby," Wade breathed. Building speed as he began to thrust into Peter, and Peter tried to respond in kind. They moved together, trying to spend each other. As Peter’s erection rubbed against Wade’s stomach, his orgasm built and coiled, and he said Wade’s name over and over as a prayer. 

Wade was lost in the feel of Peter around him, warm and perfect, perfect, perfect. “Peter,” He warned. 

Peter was ready though, “wanna be filled with your cum.” He breathed.

Wade grunted, body shuddering as waves of his seed shot out, and Peter tightened as he reached completion in turn. The feel of riding their orgasms out together was incomparable.

\---

It was embarrassing to Peter, but Wade had checked him over for any tearing, cleaning him off after. And when they decided on a nap after going through a stray bag of chips,

Peter felt himself still spilling.

Later, Wade would admit to himself that he loved the lingering smell of both of them, even as he agreed to do the laundry.

* * *

 

 

The next time they had sex wasn’t until the following weekend. The two were still getting used to their new dynamic of being live-in boyfriends, and Wade wanted to give Peter time to be less sore.

Peter  _did not want more time to be less sore_.

They were settling in on the couch, Wade holding a ginormous bowl of popcorn as he flipped through Netflix. Hovering over the trailer for Russian Doll.

Peter happened to look over just as Wade popped a single piece of the popcorn into his mouth, eyes drawn to those lips and the way Wade's tongue darted out, and then the bowl went flying as Peter flipped over and straddled Wade, grinding down hard.

“Oy!” Wade hissed. Definitely turned on as he always was when Peter took control. Still, this wasn’t their evening plan and-

Peter bowed his head and sucked Wade’s left earlobe into his mouth. Licking into it.

Wade threw Peter onto the couch, and they didn’t get around to cleaning up the crushed kernels for a good, long while.

_Damn Minx_

_\----_

It became a routine for them to get each other back. Wade’s retaliation for getting butter and stains on the nice new couch (and having to dig out endless kernels and pieces from the crevices for forever) came one morning after Peter had a long night of studying for exams. The brunette was tired and grumpy, as usual for morning.

And Wade was just so  _cheery_. And  _loud_. Making pancakes with slightly burned smiley faces. “Wake up, little Susie! Hotcakes are up.”

Feeling mutinous, and not hungry, Peter said, “Actually, I prefer Vegemite toast.”

“You get your twink ass over here and say that to my face, Parker.” Wade threatened with a spatula.

Lazily eyeing the cooking utensil, Peter slowly made his way around the kitchen island. “I said.” He punctuated. “Actually I prefer  _Vegemite toast_.”

One minute Peter was leaning back on the counter-top, arms crossed as he sleepily glared up at Wade, and the next he was turned around. Bent over at the waist, with a hand on his back holding him down and the loud smack of a spatula on his ass.

\----

So when Deadpool showed up to tease Spider-man on the roof, it was retribution for two nights prior in the shower. The story went like this:

Deadpool had gotten in late from a job, his suit gross and stinking to high heaven. Meanwhile Peter had been out having dinner with Meg and Sue (finally), and didn’t get home until late himself. Coincidentally, while Wade was in the shower. Smirking to himself as he heard the running water, at first Peter just wanted to surprise his boyfriend.

Then, stripping off and slipping quietly into the bathroom, where Wade’s rendition of “Say No To This” was loud enough to mask Peter using spider-stealth, Peter thought, maybe they could just share the shower. He could use one too.

And Wade _was_ successfully surprised, caught with his dick in his hand as Peter pulled the curtain to.

“Peter!” He had cheered. “I’m not cheating on you with Leftie, I swear! But since you’re here?” His non-existent eyebrows waggled.

Actually... Peter thought, looking down and swallowing. He still hadn’t gotten to taste Wade without the strawberry condom. Like a shot, he was down on his knees, water running down his skin as his hair grew heavy with it. Cock in his mouth, and Wade bracing himself on the tile with a “ _fuck!_ ”

And yeah, Wade tasted pretty damn good.

\----

So, remembering that, Spider-man wasn’t actually too mad Deadpool had caught him on the roof. Still, with Wade’s hands on him, Peter had to groan.

“I hate you.” He announced.

Wade pulled back from the nice hickey that was blooming on Spidey’s collar. “You love me.” He corrected.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

"So what's your mystery guy's name?" Meg asked as they took their regular spot at La Parisienne one Sunday morning. “It’s been a month, and you’ve called him nothing but your ‘boyfriend.’”

“Oh, I guess it slipped my mind.” Peter smiled, happy things had worked out and settled down, and he was finally able to tell his friend everything. "His name’s Wade," he said.

Meg stared, eerily still. "Not Wade Wilson?" She accused.

Well, that was odd, Peter thought, eyebrows scrunching. "Yeah?" He confirmed.

Meg slapped her hands down on the table. "You're dating  _Deadpool?_ ” She nearly shouted.

Peter choked. “How did you know that?!” He countered.

“ _Peter_.” Meg whined. “It’s on the internet. Deadpool hands out  _business cards_  with his full name on them.  _How are you so dumb_!” And then, she looked at Peter moaning into his hands, remembered all the sightings of Deadpool with a certain hero lately, and her eyes grew to saucers as she put all the pieces together. 

“Oh my god. Peter. You’re _Spider-man_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean if identity reveal is your thing this fic has like three. I actually started this thinking I'd practice writing sex, but apparently I didn't get around to really trying to tackle that until now. Again I had to ask my best bi guy's advice for everything. So many strange conversations. And again so many google searches. And so much blushing, which is really unfair considering my sex history.  
> I have loved every comment I've gotten on this, and I hope to respond to more soon. I've just been really overwhelmed lately, I'm sorry. I really do love and appreciate you all.
> 
> \- Shoutout to Aerographer because I definitely wrote about morning classes being unfortunate after talking.  
> \- Idk I looked up flowers for apologies/forgiveness/fondness. I don't remember. For someone who makes dried floral arrangements, I sure don't know my flowers (They're MARIGOLDS!)  
> \- Rent and Hamilton references. I love them.  
> \- When this turned into sort of a sugar daddy fic, I was worried because I don't do "Daddy". Like at all. But I wrote a mock conversation that turned into the one in Chapter 4 (“You want me to be your… sugar, baby?” “Well, I already call you baby…. / And I’m already paying for your time... // And you can call me Daddy!" "I am absolutely never calling you that." "Awww, baby...") and I decided Peter would call Wade that. Once.  
> \- Stop JK 2k19  
> \- I'm as great at naming buildings as Deadpool 2  
> \- That GOT reference is gonna date this fic, huh.  
> \- Idk. Peter's a little shit. I don't have a reason for choosing Vegemite sorry to any AU fans.  
> \- I wrote the very end of this with Meg shortly after putting her in this fic for the first time.
> 
> Thank you again for reading! If you like this fic, please recommend it? Now that it's completed it will eventually be buried in the pages of Ao3 and I don't want it to get lost, I'm selfish like that. See you next time!


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